I’m a regular customer at Burger King, always enjoying what they have to offer on their menu. Since the food quality had never ceased to amaze me, I had become loyal to this fast food restaurant for many years. Fortunately, one of the branches was situated near my home, making it a ten-minute walk and convenient to get my Burger King fix. I didn’t care if my diet revolved around Burger King, and although I enjoyed their Whoppers, it was their Chicken Tendercrisp sandwich that won me over. I was free to eat as much as I could from Burger King since my husband was rarely home to cook a nice homemade meal. But I never complained, as I wasn’t the best cook myself. In fact, I’ve always admired his hard work, and with him being away most of the time, I could get away with my obsession from Burger King since no one was around to reprimand me. It was a window of opportunity I couldn’t refuse.
I would always tell myself that going for a walk as I headed to Burger King was the best way to burn off calories. But deep down, I knew it was pointless, as I would quickly get them back from eating BK all over again. Little did I know at the time that things would drastically change.
I was familiar with all the employees working at the Burger King branch near my place, so if a new guy came along, I’d know instantly. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but I felt shivers running down my spine as I glanced at the creep smiling at me as he stared. When I looked across the counter, I was distraught to see that most of their former staff had been replaced. Nonetheless, a change of staff wasn’t enough to push me away. I ordered the usual from the creep despite my reluctance, and even when I tried to avoid negative thoughts, he rubbed me the wrong way.
“Hi,” I said, unable to look him in the eyes, keeping myself fixated on his name tag. Then I gave my order.
“Well, Ryan, I’ll have a Chicken Tendercrisp to go, please.”
“To go? Are you sure?” he replied.
“Yes. To go,” I said.
“Go sit at the table,” he said.
I didn’t know if this weirdo was intentionally joking or not, but he was definitely making me feel uncomfortable. So I told him, “I’m sorry, but I’ll be taking it home. Thanks.”
“There’s no place like home… like Burger King,” he said as he blankly started staring towards my chest.
I then placed a few crumpled up bills on the counter and waited elsewhere. A few minutes later, he handed over my order, and I immediately got the hell out of there.
For a week or two, I couldn’t stop the urge to order my favorite sandwich from Burger King. Unfortunately, all the other branches were miles away — a bit too troublesome for me to visit. So even if I had to see that creep repeatedly, it was something I could endure as long as I had a bite of that tasty sandwich.
Then, as the weeks passed, I began experiencing stomach pains that were a bit more severe than the ones I had encountered before. However, I was incredibly stubborn. My husband tried talking me out of it, but I still didn’t listen. I kept trying to find other scapegoats to avoid putting the blame on Burger King. But the pain in my stomach only worsened. That’s when a thought came to mind.
Suddenly, images of that creep appeared in my head, reminding me of how he was hitting on me the other time. I suspected that this particular employee was behind this. He must have done something to my sandwich, taking a toll on my health. I was so mad that I told my husband about the creep. Initially, I didn’t want him to know, afraid I would forever be banned from buying my favorite meal. But then I urged him to accompany me to the restaurant to meet the manager and complain about the creep.
However, my husband shook his head, telling me it wouldn’t be wise since I didn’t have any evidence to prove my statement. So one night, my husband and I decided to do a little investigation of our own. We both dropped by the Burger King where I had ordered the same sandwich, with the creep serving it to me.
“Hi, I’ll have a Chicken Tendercrisp to go, please,” I said.
He snickered and said, “What the hell happened to your radiant glow? You seem rather sluggish and pale today.”
I ignored him, gave him the payment, and put my sandwich in the bag. Then I sat beside my husband in the restaurant, took out the sandwich, and began inspecting it.
Suddenly, my partner’s eyes grew wide as he said, “What the hell is this?” It seemed like something was moving across the meat. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, thinking we were imagining things — but we weren’t.
Upon taking a closer look, we could see about a dozen slugs in it.
I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to throw up. All this time, knowing that I was consuming slugs, made me start to act irrational. My husband tried calming me down, but even he couldn’t control himself any longer.
That’s when he went into a fit of rage and started trashing the restaurant, tossing garbage cans and emptying the straw dispensary all over the place. Then he went to the counter and grabbed the creep by his collar, shouting, “How dare you put slugs in my wife’s sandwich, you piece of [ __ ]!”
The creep then started to act oblivious to what was going on, saying, “Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I could tell my husband became more irritated as the man replied without a tinge of remorse. He was itching to deck the guy in the face, but he somehow retained himself.
I remember seeing most of the other customers getting up to leave, having lost their appetite after hearing what my husband said to the creep. I then tried to reason with the manager, but he ended up siding with the bastard employee and kicked us out for causing a public nuisance.
Me and my husband were convinced the manager was either in on it or he was afraid of the damage this would cause to Burger King’s reputation. We had no choice but to report the incident to the authorities, where we handed them the slug-infested sandwich as our primary evidence. The cops promised to get back to us soon, but as the weeks passed, there was still no news about its progress.
Since then, I hadn’t heard about the creep or the slugs.
RELATED POSTS
View all
