You Whopper Deliverin' Mother Fucker!

A friend of mine, Ralph, works with me at the hospital. Before he was a nurse, Ralph was an MP in the Marines and a trooper in his home state. At six foot five and about two-fifty, I'm willing to bet Ralph can handle himself in most situations.

He came to work the other day and told me about stopping for dinner the night before. He goes into Burger King to grab some chow and notices that the place is empty except for one woman in the corner who looks a tad homeless and is rocking back and forth while slapping herself and the table in front of her.

Ralph walks to the counter and places his order. Shortly thereafter, the minimum wage, teen aged counter girl drops a bag in front of Ralph and says "You need to take this over to that woman."

According to Ralph, this begins a Mexican stand off with the counter girl trying to stare him down and Ralph trying to convey non-verbally how crazy it is to expect a customer to deliver food. This goes on for a minute or so until the counter girl turns around to prep another order. Of course I think that's the end of the story so I interrupt (as I am wont to do) and start in with "Those crazy french fry eating bastards, who do they think they are? Let 'em earn their $5.50 and hour or whatever the minimum wage is and walk the food over to the nutty homeless person." I take a breath to continue my tirade and Ralph says,

"Wait, it gets better. When she turns her back to me, she keeps looking over her shoulder at the bag on the counter top and then up at me, as if to say 'Well, what are you waiting for? Take the nut job her supper.' Then she brings me my food, but holds the bag in the air and says 'You are taking that food to that woman.' Not a question, a statement."

At this point, I'm practically frothing at the mouth. "Damn, the bitch was holding your whopper ransom!"

"Yeah," Ralph replied, "So I just looked her in the eye and said 'I need my drink.' So she put my bag down and fetched my cup. Then I went and poured my Diet Coke over at the fountain."

I was a tad worked up because I was tired of waiting for the part of the story where he let loose with a stream of Marine profanity at the counter girl, Burger King, and all unreasonable requests. I expected something worthy of R. Lee Ermey. You know a "You had better get your shit wired in this burger flopping crap hole before I gouge out your eyeballs and skull fuck you!" I was dancing back and forth waiting in anticipation. Ralph didn't say anything else, just kinda looked at me, so I prompted him with "I guess you showed that ghetto rat who is the boss, huh?"

Sheepishly Ralph looked at his feet. "Well, it was on my way out, so I took the crazy lady her food." I immediately revoked his man card for being a Whopper Deliverin' Mother Fucker.