Eff'd At The Drive-Thru

"Can I take your order, bro?"

Nick knew the guy on the other end of the receiver. They played football together in high school until Josh dropped out at the end of their sophomore year for what he called "business opportunities."

"What? Who do you think you are? You are working the drive-up window at Taco fucking Bell. I expect to be treated respectfully as your unquestioned superior, dick, or I will fuck your girlfriend. Again."

"Nick? Fuck you."

Nick and Josh had not been on very good terms since Josh's girl found herself dressed only in Nick's bed sheets and covered in dried sweat after a late-night foray into the wonderful world of alcohol for the very first time six months ago.

"Look, man, what do you want? I don't have time for any of this shit."

"Yeah, whatever. I need three Taco Supremes, a Nachos Bell Grande, and a large Pepsi. And some ass. Ashley told me sometimes she hits you from the back. She said you'd just bend over and take it, whatever I do."

"You'd better watch your fucking—"

A faint voice from the background cut him off. "Josh, shut up and take his order, I don't give a rat's ass what he's saying. Do your job. I won't tell you again."

"I'm—" Josh covered the mic. "I'm sorry ma'am."

"Hahaha! I guess pussy runs your life wherever you go, huh?"

Josh offered no response, so Nick raised the brake pedal from the floor of his Durango and idled up behind the two cars waiting to be served. Leaning back, he turned up the volume on his stereo just in time to hear the chorus:

'I bet you won't
Hit a mothafucka, hit a mothafucka (bitch!)
Hit a mothafucka, hit a mothafucka
I bet you won't
Push a mothafucka, push a mothafucka (ho!)
Push a mothafucka, push a mothafucka'

The irony was beautiful. Laughing hysterically, he curled up into the fetal position in his driver's seat and rolled into the Geo Metro waiting in line before him just as Josh leaned out the window to send his customer off with his order.

Josh grinned as a man, at least 350 pounds, climbed out of his car.

"Shit." Nick rolled down his window. "I'm sorry man. Is there any damage?"

The man shook his head, and mouthed the words "watch out" to him.

"Why is everybody who drives a Metro obese," Nick wondered to himself, aloud.

He found Josh waiting at the window, still grinning, when he pulled up to pay for his food. "What?"

"How dumb can a motherfucker be to get in an accident in the Drive-Thru?"

"When did white people start working at Taco Bell? There is no other fast food place in this town with white people but this place is packed full of them. Do they hire high school drop-outs exclusively, or was this the 'business opportunity' you found when you left? You'd think, of all places, Taco Bell would be employed by minorities."

"Keep talkin' smart ass. You don't know what I've got lined up for me. 'Sides, I'll beat your ass any time you want."

"Whatever, I'll take your shit."

Josh's grin widened into a toothy smile. "Yeah, I bet you would."

Josh disappeared into the back of the restaurant, suppressing the giddy onslaught of laughter that had come across him. "And you will, asshole," he said under his breath.

Josh reappeared a couple minutes later with a bag full of food and a large Pepsi. They exchanged money and food.

"What took so long, Josh? Did your manager decline you your masculinity again?"

"Yeah, she did. Get out of here, I've got nothing else to say to you."

Nick rolled away, laughing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick plopped down on his couch and turned on the Milwaukee Brewers game. He opened his bag of food and the emitted stench knocked him backwards so fast he banged his head on the wall.

"HOLY SHIT!" He searched the bag for the source of the stink. The nacho box was packed too full for the lid to shut but it whatever was inside (at this point, obviously the culprit) was holding it partially shut. He flipped it over.

"I'm going to KILL that Drive-Thru faggot!

On the drive back to the Bell, Nick could think of nothing but the fresh log atop the baked beans and cheese.

"Shit on my nachos...I'll shit on you...think you're funny...fucking asshole...dead..."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick hurdled the counter and ran straight at Josh, still working the window. He dove and made solid contact, sending Josh halfway out the window and atop Nick as he fell back inside.

The fight didn't take long. One solid rib shot by Josh and the two had been separated by two employees and a customer.

"What the FUCK is going on?" The manager had a conniption. "Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?"

"Your fucking nacho guy shit on my food!"

Because he was expecting a complete string of expletives and an immediate firing, Nick was surprised when the young woman buckled her knees laughing. Josh's smile once again grew wide across his face.

The manager shouted in-between fits of laughter. "You...did that? Awesome...I mean...awesome...best ret...retaliation I have...ever heard."

"What the fuck are you laughing at? Fucking fire him! He just dropped a Carl on my fucking nachos!"

The woman stopped laughing. "Don't come in here and tell me what to do. Get out before I call the cops."

Nick walked out the door to a chorus of mixed whoops, cheers, and Bitch!'es from the customers and staff.

Nick sat down in his car. For fourteen minutes, he just sat.

Finally, he smiled with the left side of his mouth and shook his head. "I can't believe he shit on my nachos."