Journal March 20
What did your group do today?
Our group read through the article given to us, and then finished the task that went along with it. We wrote down our questions about the article and started listing the key ideas and the resources used in the article. Then, some strange sort of scent filled the air, forcing our eyes into the back of our heads and our minds to a far off fast food restaurant within a grocery store...
‘Twas an afternoon of seemingly no importance, when the traffic was minimal, and all but four of the checkout lanes were open in the Wal-Mart that also had a McDonalds, when the Food Squisher struck. Pete Rogers sat idly by, depressed by the recent demise of the King Slayer he assisted, forcing him to get the first job available to pay for his undying love and obsession for shoujo manga, while unbeknownst to him, the infamous Food Squisher sauntered into Wal-Mart, feigning as the innocent and pacifist Miss Kasey Bushes. Rogers swooned at her Lolita attire as she slipped past his checkout lane.
“I’ll check out when you’re finished!” he hollered, with a wink.
Kasey hitched up her nose in distaste and pranced out of his sight, “No thank you,” she replied sweetly.
Rogers felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he swiped another customer’s Corn Flakes across the scanner. “No one loves me,” he whispered to the Corn Flakes’ chicken.
Miss Bushes took her time browsing through the aisles of cat food, dramatically frowning and nodding at the nutrition facts on various bags, as a growing number of customers filtered out of the store, sometimes picking up an ice cream cone from McDonalds on their way out. When the time came for the shifts to change, she slithered from her spot to do the deed.
Pete waved dejectedly at Marge Brine, the Wal-Mart’s McDonalds Quality Management Manager at the register of the McDonalds, as he stepped out to his car. One man ordered a water with his Big Mac, and Marge rolled her eyes. Ever so precariously, she plucked a cup from the stack, and placed it under the corresponding spout, when a loud “WAAAIIIIT” shook the ground and forced Marge to clench her rattling teeth to keep them from falling out of her head. A figure emerged in the back of the kitchen from a bought of smoke.
Imagine the most beautiful and adorable of kittens, then add a double rainbow and a cute little bow tie for good measure. Take that majestic feline being, make it human, and you are looking at Reese Klide, the one and only Dihydrogen Monoxide Connoisseur in not only the McDonalds within Wal-Mart, but perhaps the whole Tri-state area.
“Margaret!” he screeched, but not in a way displeasing to the ears, “That. Is. Not. How. It’s. Done.”
He sprinted the foot and a half to Marge’s side, shoved her to the ground, and took the cup from her then bleeding hands. With a flick and swish of his wrist, he filled the cup to the brim with the most appetizing water one has ever seen, that is, if one has never seen Reese prepare it before.
Marge moved her bloodied lips in some semblance of a compliment, but Reese shushed her, to keep her from fouling his concoction.
She breathed, “Now that’s some quality wa-,” and promptly died, with the compliment stuck in her mouth. The patron took his water and left the scene, too moved to accept his Big Mac, just as Kasey arrived.
“Hello, ma’am, how may I help you today?” the intensity from his episode with the dihydrogen monoxide was wiped clean from his expression, now the model of professionalism.
“Oh,” Bushes drew the syllable out, pursing her lips, “I’ll have… a Big Mac?” She uttered it like a question, then nodded decidedly, “with two of everything on it, and extra mustard.. and that’s it,” she finished with a sugary sweet smile. Across town, walking into his home, the hairs on the back of Rogers’ neck stood on end. He paused. He had only ever gotten this feeling before when there was trouble brewing. “My store,” he muttered under his breath, eyes wide with terror.
“Coming right up,” Reese replied politely, “It’ll just be a moment.”
“I can wait,” Kasey mused, just barely keeping the malicious intent from permeating the air with her reply.
The Big Mac was prepared and presented to the woman, and with a nod of thanks and the beginning of a devilish grin, she accepted it and retreated with her tray to the darkest corner of the store. The air thickened around her as she carefully unwrapped her victim, savoring the inevitable moment of its demise. She pulled the wrapper out from under it, folding it meticulously, as Rogers burst through the Wal-Mart doors, tearing them from their tracks as they failed to slide open fast enough.
“MS. BUSHES! NOOO!” he screamed, rounding the corner into the McDonalds and the perfect spectator’s seat for the sinister show’s opening act.
Kasey jumped up from her chair, caught moments before she could commit her crime with no witnesses, her hand stalled just above the bun of her Big Mac. “You’re too late,” she squeaked, “I’m gonna do it!” She wiped her other palm on her skirt as her eyes darted between the man and her Mac.
“Just think this through,” he reasoned, raising his hands to show he had no ill intent.
“NEVER!” she howled, and raised her hand high, and in the moment before she sweepped her palm down, time stopped as Reese and Rogers’ eyes met.
Rogers looked into Reese’s eyes and heard everything he needed to hear, that Reese hadn’t the courage, hadn’t the time to tell him. They were on the brink of disaster and he had to act. He no longer had the luxury to toss the sword to his master, let him cut down the evil in the world for him. Now was not the time for him to be some King Slayer’s Assistant. That’s not who Pete Rogers was anymore. Now was the time for him to become not another assistant, but to become THE King Slayer.
Pete ripped his gaze away from Reese’s teary stare, and leapt towards the fiend. His fingertips just managed to brush the side of her petite hand and the entire store ceased making noise no one had realized it was making; the very walls seemed to hold their breath, hoping, praying, that the brief contact would be enough to stop her in her heinous act.
She squished the Big Mac.
Mustard flew out the sides, slapping Rogers’ righteous face, smiting him, throwing him back against the mesa-alta’s at the front of the restaurant, where he fell to the ground to never rise again. Reese was shoved into the beverage system as it bursts open and poured the bottomless supply of the man’s glorious dihydrogen monoxide down on him, betraying its master, drowning the poor soul. A shock wave reverberated through the store, demolishing everything, everyone in its wake, leaving nothing but rubble and ruin, the entire structure of the McDonalds, and the Wal-Mart it resided in, crumbling around the villian.
The smoke cleared, revealing no victims other than the squished Big Mac, and Kasey the Food Squisher Bushes, her maniacal laughter carrying to the farthest reaches of the Tri-state area under the afternoon sun.