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Post By A Lurker, who doesn't promise anything... Sun Apr 16, 2006 at 05:58:36 pm EDT |
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ManMan In...Fried Chicken Fracas! An Untold Tales Tie-In. | |
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Next In Thread >> | |
Joe Pepper closed his eyes as he stepped onto the scales. “Aren’t you going to look?” Knifey, propped up on the medicine cabinet in Joe’s Lair Mansion bathroom, asked him. “In a minute…” Joe replied, screwing his eyelids closer. “You’re not going to get any less tubby by strenuous eye activity,” the sentient knife observed. “You’ll probably just end up raking the corneas off your eyeballs.” Joe’s eyes flew open. “175?” He asked incredulously when he spotted the numbered dial. “But…I haven’t eaten properly in a fortnight!” “Of course you haven’t,” Knifey berated him. “Especially when your definition of ‘Eating properly’ involves a Joan of Arcadia marathon, a 16 piece family meal from Popeye’s Chicken and a 6 litre Shrekalicious slurpy!” Joe’s stomach growled approvingly. “Oh man…” the Elvis-Impersonator whined. “If I don’t get something too sugary, salty, greasy or fatty I think I might...” “…Fit into your costume properly without that roll of flab flopping around over your belt?” the knife finished. The hero ignored him. “Go nuts!” Joe tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Isn’t there anyway I can sneak out of here and get some kind of burger?” “You could always ask Ham Boy for a slice?” offered his sidekick. “The inner thigh would probably have the choicest cuts…” “Bleurgh!” Joe gagged. “Chicken it is then…but FRIED chicken…With extra sugar!” ManMan In…The Fried Chicken Fracas! Joe looked over his shoulder nervously as he stood in line at Ohio Fried Chicken. His recent experiences with fast food had ended disastrously, with the hero being humiliated repeatedly by his team-mates. “Not this time, sneaky hot asian chick,” he cackled quietly. The ‘escape’ from the Mansion had been relatively easy, with Joe explaining that he needed to check up on his still hospitalized Aunt and his sometime girlfriend, Widget. Joe rationalised that his beloved ones could wait until later and took another agonisingly small step toward the order counter. “They make their meals from Rat guts, you know?” Knifey, conveniently located in Joe’s belt, told him. “Don’t care!” Joe beamed. “Rat guts that have been left in the sewer for a week…” “Seasoning!” “What about the hundreds of reported Ebola lawsuits?” “Proves that people love OFC,” the Elvis-Impersonator advanced in the queue. “Just like me,” he drooled. “I’ve heard that their employees don’t use any kind of toilet paper and don’t wash their hands when they repeatedly go to the bathroom because of their fried chicken-induced dysentery.” Joe snorted. “You hear a lot of things for something with no ears.” “Lots of the OFC employees haven’t any ears either…They’re apparently used for their OFC chicken/bacon baps.” Joe clapped in delight when he finally approached the counter. “I’ll have…” the hero was lost for choice, as he stared at the over the counter menu. “…Everything!” The hero glanced at Knifey. “…with extra sugar!” he added. The underaged clerk smiled professionally. “Of course, if you’ll just show me your government pass, I’ll ring that up for you.” Joe frowned. “‘Government pass’?” The clerk frowned. “Yes sir, to prove that you’ve been branded.” He pointed to a sign bolted to the wall: We here at OFC are dedicated to bringing you the most satisfying, economical and SAFE experience of fried-chicken in the country. With this goal in mind, we, along with 200 other leading business establishments, have co-authored the ‘Patriotic Consumer Pact’ which states that NO unauthorized meta-human shall be served on these premises without government approval. Furthermore, when the deadline for Resolution 1066 has passed, any unauthorized meta-human on OFC property shall be reported to the authorities immediately. Please enjoy your fried-chicken experience! “What a load of crap!” exclaimed Joe. “Sir, if you don’t have a pass, I’m afraid I can’t serve you,” the clerk assured the hero. ManMan kicked a table leg feebly. “Now the government wants me to lose weight?” “Look on the bright-side,” Knifey pointed out. “When you’re fit again, you can kick their behinds even more effectively than before.” Joe whimpered and lurched out of the restaurant clutching his stomach. “I just wanted some fried chicken…” The hero felt a small tap on his shoulder. “Here.” It was an old man in an OFC uniform, carrying a family sized bucket of fried-chicken, which he was offering to Joe. “Not everybody believes what the government is saying,” the old man told the hero. The Elvis-Impersonator embraced the OFC elderly worker. “You’ve just saved my life!” “Yes…well…” replied the man awkwardly. “Oh, right!” the hero laughed. He took the bucket and lifted the lid, savouring the aroma of his favourite meal/snack. Having been thwarted in previous occasions, he quickly scouted the parking lot for advancing team-mates and the Elvis-Impersonator laughed wildly when he saw that he was safe. Joe reached in, grabbed the juiciest leg and brought it to his quivering lips… “That’ll be 23 dollars,” the old man told him. The hero stopped with the leg inches away from his mouth. “What?” “23 dollars,” the old man repeated and then laughed when he noted Joe’s face. “You think I just gave you 23 dollars worth of chicken for free? I’m 76 years old and I work at a fast-food restaurant, what makes you think I can afford charity?” “Oh…” Manny blushed. “Let me just find my wallet…” Knifey chuckled wickedly. “Nooooo!” Joe and his stomach howled. |
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