Meet my weakness. The thing that makes my knees buckle and my stomach flip flop and my hiney tingle. I love myself some greasy burger with onion rings.
These peeps take forever to order. I have no issues whatsoever. I want an onion burger with a large order of onion rings and a Dr. Pepper. Also a side order of badonka butt, saddlebags, chicken wing arm flab, and a small spare tire. But this place has the BEST onion rings known to man kind. And I DO NOT like to share. You looked at the menu too Bud. Too bad, so sad that you chose the fries. What-ev-a.
So when I look over and see this atrocity occurring before my very eyes...
I give him 2.1 seconds...
to hide the evidence and promise it will never happen again. Or else I will pluck out his toe nails and burp my onion burger and rings in his face. I kid. I kid. Probably. But don't test me. And I can whoop up Spiderman too for some onion rings. But we love this place with its nostalgia
and Uhm, exsqueeze me? Are you drinking my Dr Pepper? THAT IS IT! I am kicking your butts to the curb.
Depart from me you workers of iniquity.
I know you not!