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It was a simple device, small, cylindrical, hardly noticeable. I didn’t expect anybody to spot it before it went off, and indeed they didn’t. Of course, I had to go in there to plant it, not a pleasant experience. As soon as I passed beneath those golden arches I felt a wave of nausea pass over me. Part of it was the fear of getting caught, part of it the fear of it actually succeeding.
As soon saw the hoards of vacant faces lining up for the opportunity to purchase meat products of questionable origin I knew it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t like it would really hurt anybody, stomachs would settle, bruises would fade from a dark purple to a sickly yellow, then back to the colour of the pasty skin they were situated upon. And besides, it would be fun, well, for me, not for all of those still inside when it went off.
I joined one of the queues and waited in turn to be served. What to order? cows anus and lip burger, or a chicken burger formed from the bits you can scrape from the legs? Then there were the fries, more salt than potato, deep fried in a putrid fat said to come from a vegetable extracts.
“Just a small coke please”
“We don’t have small; we have regular, medium, large or super size.”
It took me a moment to respond. I looked deep into the eyes of the boy behind the counter, but there was nothing there, nothing at all.
“Regular then…”
I took a seat behind a pillar, and pulled the lid from by coke. From my pocket I grabbed the cylinder that I’d spent so long preparing, and placed it into the drink. It would only take a minute for the coke to soak through the bottom and cause a reaction, and I wanted to be well clear before it happened. I headed for the door, placing my camera on one of the bins on the way. I ran across the street and into the car park. I fumbled with my keys in my rush to watch the action. I got into my car, and switched on the screen. It had begun.
The table nearest to where I had left my potion was a mess. I could see the vomit dripping from the table, amongst the half-eaten burgers. Slowly it spread throughout the restaurant, the people on the next set of tables begun clutching their stomachs, but where unable to do anything to stop themselves from throwing up. As the staff were furthest away from the action, and not yet being sick some people thought they were responsible, and started to attack them. When one man brought his breakfast up over another he was rewarded with a punch in the face. The whole restaurant was in complete pandemonium, fists were flying as fast as the vomit was flowing, children cried as their Happy Meals became unhappy meals, their free toys held aloft to try to protect them from the mess. Parents tried to protect their children, but half of them ended up blowing chunks on the kids, who responded by doing the same back. People were running into the streets and out of my view, but some remained to finish off the fights they had started, or tried in vain to wipe themselves clean with serviettes, only to feel their stomachs revolt once more.
All of the time I watched the mayhem I could only think of three little words; I’m lovin’ it.
As soon saw the hoards of vacant faces lining up for the opportunity to purchase meat products of questionable origin I knew it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t like it would really hurt anybody, stomachs would settle, bruises would fade from a dark purple to a sickly yellow, then back to the colour of the pasty skin they were situated upon. And besides, it would be fun, well, for me, not for all of those still inside when it went off.
I joined one of the queues and waited in turn to be served. What to order? cows anus and lip burger, or a chicken burger formed from the bits you can scrape from the legs? Then there were the fries, more salt than potato, deep fried in a putrid fat said to come from a vegetable extracts.
“Just a small coke please”
“We don’t have small; we have regular, medium, large or super size.”
It took me a moment to respond. I looked deep into the eyes of the boy behind the counter, but there was nothing there, nothing at all.
“Regular then…”
I took a seat behind a pillar, and pulled the lid from by coke. From my pocket I grabbed the cylinder that I’d spent so long preparing, and placed it into the drink. It would only take a minute for the coke to soak through the bottom and cause a reaction, and I wanted to be well clear before it happened. I headed for the door, placing my camera on one of the bins on the way. I ran across the street and into the car park. I fumbled with my keys in my rush to watch the action. I got into my car, and switched on the screen. It had begun.
The table nearest to where I had left my potion was a mess. I could see the vomit dripping from the table, amongst the half-eaten burgers. Slowly it spread throughout the restaurant, the people on the next set of tables begun clutching their stomachs, but where unable to do anything to stop themselves from throwing up. As the staff were furthest away from the action, and not yet being sick some people thought they were responsible, and started to attack them. When one man brought his breakfast up over another he was rewarded with a punch in the face. The whole restaurant was in complete pandemonium, fists were flying as fast as the vomit was flowing, children cried as their Happy Meals became unhappy meals, their free toys held aloft to try to protect them from the mess. Parents tried to protect their children, but half of them ended up blowing chunks on the kids, who responded by doing the same back. People were running into the streets and out of my view, but some remained to finish off the fights they had started, or tried in vain to wipe themselves clean with serviettes, only to feel their stomachs revolt once more.
All of the time I watched the mayhem I could only think of three little words; I’m lovin’ it.
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Muhahaha. :D
Excellent.
Excellent.
It was a simple device, small, cylindrical, hardly noticeable. I didn’t expect anybody to spot it before it went off, and indeed they didn’t. Of course, I had to go in there to plant it, not a pleasant experience. As soon as I passed beneath those golden arches I felt a wave of nausea pass over me. Part of it was the fear of getting caught, part of it the fear of it actually succeeding.
As soon saw the hoards of vacant faces lining up for the opportunity to purchase meat products of questionable origin I knew it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t like it would really hurt anybody, stomachs would settle, bruises would fade from a dark purple to a sickly yellow, then back to the colour of the pasty skin they were situated upon. And besides, it would be fun, well, for me, not for all of those still inside when it went off.
I joined one of the queues and waited in turn to be served. What to order? cows anus and lip burger, or a chicken burger formed from the bits you can scrape from the legs? Then there were the fries, more salt than potato, deep fried in a putrid fat said to come from a vegetable extracts.
“Just a small coke please”
“We don’t have small; we have regular, medium, large or super size.”
It took me a moment to respond. I looked deep into the eyes of the boy behind the counter, but there was nothing there, nothing at all.
“Regular then…”
I took a seat behind a pillar, and pulled the lid from by coke. From my pocket I grabbed the cylinder that I’d spent so long preparing, and placed it into the drink. It would only take a minute for the coke to soak through the bottom and cause a reaction, and I wanted to be well clear before it happened. I headed for the door, placing my camera on one of the bins on the way. I ran across the street and into the car park. I fumbled with my keys in my rush to watch the action. I got into my car, and switched on the screen. It had begun.
The table nearest to where I had left my potion was a mess. I could see the vomit dripping from the table, amongst the half-eaten burgers. Slowly it spread throughout the restaurant, the people on the next set of tables begun clutching their stomachs, but where unable to do anything to stop themselves from throwing up. As the staff were furthest away from the action, and not yet being sick some people thought they were responsible, and started to attack them. When one man brought his breakfast up over another he was rewarded with a punch in the face. The whole restaurant was in complete pandemonium, fists were flying as fast as the vomit was flowing, children cried as their Happy Meals became unhappy meals, their free toys held aloft to try to protect them from the mess. Parents tried to protect their children, but half of them ended up blowing chunks on the kids, who responded by doing the same back. People were running into the streets and out of my view, but some remained to finish off the fights they had started, or tried in vain to wipe themselves clean with serviettes, only to feel their stomachs revolt once more.
All of the time I watched the mayhem I could only think of three little words; I’m lovin’ it.
As soon saw the hoards of vacant faces lining up for the opportunity to purchase meat products of questionable origin I knew it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t like it would really hurt anybody, stomachs would settle, bruises would fade from a dark purple to a sickly yellow, then back to the colour of the pasty skin they were situated upon. And besides, it would be fun, well, for me, not for all of those still inside when it went off.
I joined one of the queues and waited in turn to be served. What to order? cows anus and lip burger, or a chicken burger formed from the bits you can scrape from the legs? Then there were the fries, more salt than potato, deep fried in a putrid fat said to come from a vegetable extracts.
“Just a small coke please”
“We don’t have small; we have regular, medium, large or super size.”
It took me a moment to respond. I looked deep into the eyes of the boy behind the counter, but there was nothing there, nothing at all.
“Regular then…”
I took a seat behind a pillar, and pulled the lid from by coke. From my pocket I grabbed the cylinder that I’d spent so long preparing, and placed it into the drink. It would only take a minute for the coke to soak through the bottom and cause a reaction, and I wanted to be well clear before it happened. I headed for the door, placing my camera on one of the bins on the way. I ran across the street and into the car park. I fumbled with my keys in my rush to watch the action. I got into my car, and switched on the screen. It had begun.
The table nearest to where I had left my potion was a mess. I could see the vomit dripping from the table, amongst the half-eaten burgers. Slowly it spread throughout the restaurant, the people on the next set of tables begun clutching their stomachs, but where unable to do anything to stop themselves from throwing up. As the staff were furthest away from the action, and not yet being sick some people thought they were responsible, and started to attack them. When one man brought his breakfast up over another he was rewarded with a punch in the face. The whole restaurant was in complete pandemonium, fists were flying as fast as the vomit was flowing, children cried as their Happy Meals became unhappy meals, their free toys held aloft to try to protect them from the mess. Parents tried to protect their children, but half of them ended up blowing chunks on the kids, who responded by doing the same back. People were running into the streets and out of my view, but some remained to finish off the fights they had started, or tried in vain to wipe themselves clean with serviettes, only to feel their stomachs revolt once more.
All of the time I watched the mayhem I could only think of three little words; I’m lovin’ it.
Page: