'Ten Minutes Late for Reality' by Lou Morris (c) 1988, 1989, 1991, 2002, 2015. Thirty-six:


   "Helxc, Max I tacke yeour ordarer?"

                                 - A soon to be accepted
applicant reciting his
lines for the soon to be
vacant drive-thru window
                                  position at McWendy's.

   That's when a masked gunman burst through the glass doors
and waved his shotgun around menacingly.
   Oh, sorry.  I forgot to remind you of Kill-M-All's
current situation.  He had just finished chopping the head
off of a particularly harmless, but still scary none the
less, Ronald McWendy statue.
   That's when a masked gunman burst through the glass doors
and waved his shotgun around menacingly.  (Didn't I just
write that?)
   Newly hired counter person Cindy stared, dumbfounded, at
the masked gunman.  The same gunman who, Cindy realized, just
robbed the 11-7 yesterday.  The same gunman who made her quit
that job for a job at a fast food joint!  Cindy collapsed to
the ground in a quivering mass of nerves and special sauce.
   "--" the gunman said in an "Arid extra dry" brand
deodorant voice.  He waved his rusty shotgun instead, just to
make the point.
   No one seamed to get the point or hint or whatever the
masked person was trying to point out.  They just shrugged
their shoulders in an I-don't-know sort of way.
   Again the gunman waved the hopefully not loaded gun
around and pointed it up towards the ceiling.  "--" he
crackled, straining the voice that he didn't have.
   People looked up at the ceiling then back at him.  Some
thought, "What is he doing?  Is he some sort of attraction or
clown from Death Adventure?  Let us finish our dinner and
we'll go there," while others thought, "Poor retarded guy;
probably having an epileptic attack," while even weirder
people thought, "Asbestos ceiling tiles, so what?"
   Why is this person waving an iron pole around? Kill-M-All
wondered.  Is he trying to cast a spell?  Or is he just plain
stupid?  At least I got that little boy and his mother off my
   The now slightly frustrated masked gunman raised both his
arms high into the air.  He looked to the growing crowd of
people for some recognition.
   He failed.  The crowd looked back, even more confused
than before.  Most of them were either coming from or going
to Death Adventure; that fact alone would be reason enough
for them to be a little slow in the head.  Added with the
screaming, whinny kids and the expensive but bad fast food,
this crowd could be legally considered brain dead.
   Most of them edged closer to have a look at the strange
guy in the lobby having a seizure.
   "Oh, I get it!" a teenaged counter girl yelled.  "He's a
mime!  Pretty good, huh?  Let me guess--you're walking
against the wind, right?"
   Now the gunman was really pissed off.  He needed some
cash and he needed it now--the cops were already looking for
him around town.  He waved the gun around and pointed it at
the menu display above the counter.
   "No, dummy.  He's not a mime.  He's playing charades!"
someone else yelled.  "A movie, right?  Two syllables...
sounds like--"
   He shuddered from the shock of the gun while pieces of
menu scattered itself around the restaurant.
   "--" he remarked after he blew the smoke from his
shotgun.  He leaned nonchalantly against the wall next to the
double doors, happy that he finally got the hint across to
these idiots.
   "I got it!" a woman's voice yelled, "Bambo meets
Rambi--First bucks part two!"
   The masked gunman turned to face the brick wall, then he
banged his head into it--hard.  Many, many times--hard.
   Kill-M-All judged this to be the best time to slip away
from this crazy place; he could've taken that nutty ninja in
a fight but that little boy's mother looked quite the bitch.  
He had made it a rule not to hit women--unless he felt like
it.  He didn't feel like it, so he slipped out one of the
side doors and ran into the adjacent woods.
   No sooner did Kill-M-All leave, than did two policemen
hop out of their newly dented police cruiser and walk towards
the front of McWendy's.
   "What did dispatch say was going on in there, Captain
Reagan?" policeman number one asked.
   "Oh, something about an epileptic mime having a seizure
while playing charades," said the other cop, presumably
Captain Reagan.
   "Same old thing, huh?"
   "Yeah.  Cassville sure can be boring sometimes."