The Time I Realised That It Wasn't Ketchup on My Shirt!
I was eating at McDonald's. I loved it. Until, I noticed a bit of ketchup on the floor. I asked the manager to clean it. "Hey, manager dude, clear this up!" I said. The manager looked at me with a serious glance. "Oh, if I'm your slave then why don't you do it yourself?!" The manager screeched. "Alrighty, McDonalds manager #15920, I.P Address: 452-103-684, house number 52 on Honky Tonk Road." I said. The manager was confused. "How do you know all of that?" The manager said.
"I dunno." I said, shrugging my shoulders. The manager glanced and he bent over. He tried to clean it. "C'mon! Clean it, moron!" I said. "I'm doing that, you asshole!" The manager grumbled. The manager was confused. "I think this is dried in..." The manager said. "It's not dried in!" I shouted. "OK, jeez." The manager said. The manager finally cleaned it up.
"Good job!" I said, clapping. "Thank you!" The manager said. "You're very welcome..." I said, taking a bow.
"You drinking the ketchup?" The manager asked. "Yeah-huh." I said, with a mouthful with pure red and juicy and moist and runny and very red-lppking ketchup. The manager's jaw dropped. For some reason. "You drank that month's worth of ketchup?! The manager shouted. "Yes, I did." I said. The manager screamed like Darth Vader. I spilled some ketchup on my pants. "Whoops." I said, brushing myself off using a napkin.
"Well, you're causing accidents everywhere you go." The manager sniggered. "Aww heck no." I said. My head was tilted down as I slammed my forehead into the table. Slowly breaking it like a fragile egg. I wanted to stop, but. The fact is, I didn't want to.
Then, I saw someone sleeping. "Wake up!" I said. A sobbing employee came my way. "He died of a heart attack. "Here." He sobbed. "Uhh, what's this?" I said. "That my sir is a McDonald's coupon." He said. "This is a load of shit." I said. "Yeah, I know, they don't even pay us!" He screamed in rage. "They treat you like animals!" I said. "I should quit at this point, I can't live in McDonalds. Every damn day I get the same B.S. The ice-cream machine is always broken. The sounds of the electronic beeping annoys the hell out of me! I can't take this anymore!" He screamed.
"Is that guy sleeping?" I asked. "I already said, he died." He said. "Look, you don't need to treat me like I'm in that thing that you call a Playzone." I said. "Our Playzone is safer than ever. Only a collective 69420 incidents have happened." I said.
"You suck." I said. "No, you suck." He said. We pushed and shoved. Until.
I was eating. I got some ketchup on my shirt. I tried to lick it. The ketchup tasted a bit, off. But it was alright.
That's when I realised that it wasn't ketchup. It was... BLOOD!!!!111
Written by TheBigLG
Content is available under CC BY-SA
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