Can I take your Order?

Little Hoss and I were out on one of our nice jaunts several days ago. Little hoss looked to be getting a little hungry. I base this on the fact that she threw Mr. Never Stops Singing toy at the back of my head. Ahh, so precious.

Little Hoss is partial to nuggets from McDonalds. We were close by so I decided that we would pick some up on the way home, thus preventing any more toys being thrown at my head.

This is where we welcome in Mr. Johnny Take Advantage. You know the guy, he’s very popular. He is the one that squeals his tires to just manage to get infront of you in the drive thru line. Why is this so important to him? I have no idea, but I hate him. Little Hoss hates him much much more as it has delayed her nugget harvest.

He doesn’t pull up to the window to order though. Nope, he must take a good five minutes to read the menu. Listen, I’m a pretty patient guy, but let me lay down some knowledge on you. If you have to actually study to menu at McDonalds, you don’t need to eat there. IT IS ALWAYS THE SAME! How to prove my point. How many of you out there now what the number 3 meal is? That’s what I thought. If you are studying the menu, you are a retard. You are obviously shielded from mass produced food, don’t crack now.

This makes me so mad I could just spit, as my mother would say. Honestly, do us all a favor and take your big doolie truck and park it in the river, you hippie. I have jihads going on all the time.

He finally pulls up to the window after a good 5 minutes as my daughter reminds him that SHE IS HUNGRY! He doesn’t order though, good lord no. He begins to ask questions. Look, I got your one answer here. IT’S ALL UNHEALTHY! IT’S DIPPED IN FAT AND LOVE HANDLES! COME ON! Who does this!

Little Hoss has begun planning her revenge. She suggests that I throw her on the guy’s windshield so she can proceed her barrage of baby insults. Maybe even throw in a little smelly baby puke, that’s always a class favorite. That stuff stains and stinks for years. You can’t get it out, try an exorcism. Oxyclean is a joke to this stuff.

I like this second idea and am considering it when Little Hoss gets so mad that she lays a deuce. Yup, a big smelly poo. I can’t believe that my kid screamed so loud she crapped. That is fortitude ladies and gentlemen, fortitude.

I’ve been a father for over a year now. I’ve heard some people say that pooping is cute, a little poo, then make faces. Poo is never cute, the smell is never good, and crapping is Little Hoss’s forte.

I’m about to throw this diaper on Mr. Dickweed’s windshield when I think the smell hits him. He makes some arm movements and quickly ducks his head back in his car. Finally, we can order.

At the next window I’m still watching. What did he order that took so much time? An icecream cone. I feel my vein pop on my forehead. My pain is blocked by the stench that is my daughter in the backseat.

It’s the same at the movie theater. When you wait in line, then get up there, then have to Then and only Then look at movie schedule. Who does this?

Secretly, I am hoping that this icecream cone was laced with arsenic. I can only be happy now if I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this icecream cone had a first life as the nest of a huge rat family. I know that this seems harsh but I don’t care. I have a stinky one year old screaming in the backseat, there is no room for debate on this one.
The doolie pulls off, obviously running from my vengeance. My minion in the back seat is calming down after I begin to pelt her with nuggets, that golden equalizer. She is happy even though there should be a quarantine in the car by now. I hope that the window lady got a big dutch oven smell of it as I rolled down my window. Sometimes you can only get justice by smitting the ones loosely associated with the act.