I dont know what you mean...here is the next part. If you dont want to read it, let me know.


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If anyone would have ever asked Bill about his weight he would have probably said something along the lines of "It’s my glands", or "I'm just a fat ass". He would have said that "when I was a kid I was thinner then a fuckin toothpick". He wouldn’t have said anything about being chronically lethargic, morbidly depressed and inclined to escapism. He wouldn’t have mentioned the fact that after his second wife left him he tried to commit suicide and failed, but never lost his urge to die. He might not have known all these things as clearly as I say them, but that is the truth and unfortunately I won’t be able to come back later and tell you I made it all up.

Bill had worked in some form of fast food for more than 20 years. When he started, people working the grills at burger joints actually had to flip the burger, the orders didn’t pop up on computer screens throughout the entire store, if a person didn’t get their food in 60 seconds, they didn’t call you a shit face. Bill had faith in fast food "People gotta eat" he would say. Unlike most fast-food employees though Bill never really lost his taste for the stuff, they say that in some fast food there are chemicals that are mildly addictive and after meeting Bill I believe this. Every day Bill ate a sandwich, he also ate a salad when they started serving them. The sad truth is though that Bill ate for the wrong reasons. Like many Americans (myself included to a point) and people not starving to death in some third world country, Bill ate for taste alone. Eating was not survival to Bill, eating was pleasure, he chose his meals based on what he was in the mood for and what would taste best. The difference about Bill was that he gave no thought to how his choices would affect him and the world around him, if he did think it through he didn’t care. For Bill eating was the same as getting drunk or beating off.

One week after Bill died I got a new job, this time at a burger joint that indicated royalty in its name. I was back in the drive through, back in the headset, back with the voices. Many of them were the same voices that I had heard before; they would come on different days, less often, more frequently. Agnes never showed up and that sort of saddened me but in a way I was happy that she kept her intake of this shit to a minimum. Aside from that the only difference in this job from my last was the food. I had a few more overweight bosses and I made 50 cents less. This is when things started to change.

I decided to take a few years off of school; "some time to get my head on straight" is what I called it then. I was still gonna build that massive building one day, maybe right in downtown arch dale, but for now I needed a break from school. My girlfriend didn’t. She didn’t want to wait for school and apparently, she didn’t feel like waiting until marriage to have sex anymore. She moved out of state and started college the next fall. I didn’t take this to well and I basically long distance stalked her, I would call her up and cry and tell her we were meant to be. One day I called her and when I asked how she was she said "I'm having sex"

"What like right now?" I asked

"No, but every night...his name is Durk and he's 35. Stop calling me" then she hung up on me.

After that I was too pissed off to care about her aside from a feeling of deep resentment. She became my Bitch number 1 I suppose.

Eventually I started getting new interests in life. I would go to the Archdale main library and study things like vegetarianism and veganism. I learned about a group of people that eat only when they get really hungry and weak, they eat for survival and nothing else. I learned about groups like P.E.T.A. I read books, visited websites. I wasn’t sure if I could ever stop eating meat but I wanted to.

I learned about things like factory farms and the negative affects they have on the planet and farmers. I saw videos on the internet of cows being slaughtered, chickens being dipped into huge pots of boiling water and emerging with their feathers gone and in a state of shock. I saw pictures of veal calves. I learned figures on how much meat America alone consumes in one year and how long it takes for the land of factory farms to regain its fertility. I learned about the different grades of meat and what they mean.
After a while I decided that this was indeed the life for me, I stopped eating meat, I joined P.E.T.A. I tried to educate people, I wanted to save the world and its animals from the endless and remorseless appetite of my country. I started to wake up.
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How many more posts will it take to post the whole story? Also, I wants more.

I haven't sensed anything creepy yet. I'm not scared of regular people yet.
It's getting to the good part, right?

:P soon enough...I dont know how many posts it will take. I will post bigger parts though.

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5

The first idea I had was logical enough, attack the monsters heart, just like it attacked Bills. I would be the lone fast food worker who cared, a crusader. I started printing things out at the library, ordering educational pamphlets and buttons that said things like "meat stinks" and I brought them with me to work. My new bosses were no Bill Cromers though, they were all assholes. They yelled at employees and took their shitty jobs way to serious. They did things like hold meetings and designate crew leaders, I was employee of the month once. Needless to say I had to sneak in my propaganda, aside from the buttons, those I would wear and I didn’t care if they saw them because we live in America. Everyday I had pockets full of paper, pamphlets hidden in my boxer short waist band, I carried a backpack full of reserve supplies and every customer got something extra in their bag.

For most people I simply stuffed an article about vegetarianism in with their burger and said "have a nice day". But for the assheads, people who talked down to me or yelled into the damn box, I had special things like pictures of dead cows and featherless chickens, page long descriptions of the places their food came from and the horrible conditions the animals lived in, caked in shit, surrounded by other animals who had died early of disease. If I ran out of supplies I simply talked to people, someone would order and then I would read to them from a nutrion facts sheet just how unhealthy what their about to feed their children is. I would remind them about things like heart attacks, high cholesterol and strokes.

Most people didn’t care. I would hand out my stuff and get no response. some people were thankful, usually mothers, they’d say things like "wow that’s really bad, thanks for the heads up" than I wouldn’t see them for a while and when they did come back they always felt obligated to explain themselves, "no time to cook tonight you know, but I got the kids apples instead of fries" I would then explain to them that I didn’t mean to make them feel bad, they said I did anyways.

Allot of times though people just got mad. With current gas prices it sounds insane that people would actually drive all the way back through my line just to flick me off and throw the picture or information at my face, only to drive off again. Now those sons a bitches are payin 4 dollars a gallon, but I'm in a nut house so I don’t know who won in the end.

Either way I know it made me feel great, I was doing something, helping people, changing the world. I carried it beyond work and on my days off I would go to down town Archdale and hand out pamphlets. It made me feel good the way that Agnus had made me feel good. Jesus knew what he was saying when he talked about helping others; it really does a good number on you.

I suppose now I have to get to the bad part of my story, the part that got my name and picture on T-shirts for high school kids. I asked my doctor if I could just skip this part. He reminded me that this is the whole reason I'm writing in the first place. When I told him that I think an accurate description was given by the media he said that they (doctors) "were looking to get inside my head", he told me he thinks I’m "very smart and respectable". When I asked him why he wouldn’t just let me go if he thinks I’m so smart and respectable he gave a chuckle and told me not to joke, then our time was up, now I’m back in my room. I suppose they do trust me enough though because they gave me this typewriter and I could easily take it apart and use the little clackers to make a lock pick, or a shank. I’m sitting here now, and I’m looking at a white cinder block wall, I have a desk, a bed, and this typewriter (until I’m done, then its going back in the closet that I can’t get to). I want to leave.

I suppose it was bound to happen one day, you piss with people long enough... Like I said earlier most of the people who got angry at me either cussed at me or threw things at me, I insulted them and they reacted in a reasonable enough manner. All it takes it one wrong move to change things.
One day I was in my usual position at the drive through, blue and yellow shirt wrinkle free, Black slacks ironed that morning, and a button that said

M.urdering
hE.llpless
A.nimals with
T.orture

Gleaming in the mid day sun on the side of my stupid black hat. It had been sort of slow that day so I was in a relaxed mood. I hadn’t been to the library in a while so I didn’t have any supplies, but that was o.k., I had my mouth.

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yea he just started to wake up ! =]

Edit: YUS ! more!

More. <3

Edit:


Deady come ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon .

xD Glad you like it.

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6.

I was sweeping the floor and trying to get things done because it was around 8 o'clock and even crusaders like to get home early. My headset beeped (witch if you have ever worked in fast food you know how annoying and shrill that sound is). "Great" I thought "another son of a bitch who wants a super burger". I pushed the little red button that puts my voice in the box.

"Hi" I said "welcome to ----- ---- what can I get for you?"

"Hello?!?" came my response.

"Hello" I said "what can I get for you?"

"Oh yeah....gimee aaaaaaaa super burgerrrrr aaand aaa diet soda" he said.

"you know that diet soda wont help at all with that super burger" I said "theirs over 400 calories in just one burger"

"yah, o.k. gimme a fuckin super burger" he said.

"Alright" I said "just tryin to help"

"Yep, fuck off" he said and than he pulled around.

Now was the little "fuck off" really necessary? Well I thought he took it to far, "tell me to fuck off eh?" I thought. I went and grabbed a bag to put his stupid sandwich in and waited for the grill guy to send it down the little chute. "I should wipe my ass with this bag" I thought as the burger plopped in front of me, when I picked it up I burnt my finger on the heating coil and said "shit".

When I got to the window I was greeted by a man who was probably in his early 40's. He was driving a truck that probably got about 3 miles a gallon and when I opened the window he said "what did you call me?"

"Nothin man" I said.

"Yeah right" he said "just gimme some fuckin ketchup"

I closed the window and he started to say something but I just walked away, there was ketchup in my area but I didn’t want to be near this guy anymore than I had to. "What a prick" I whispered to myself as I walked towards the little container up front that held the packets of ketchup. I dropped a few in and with a spontaneity not common for me I plucked the M.E.A.T. pin from my hat and tossed it in to the bag.

I walked back to the window and handed him his food "thanks" I said and he drove off, then he parked, assholes always park to make sure you didn’t mess up their order. I forgot about the guy honestly, I went back to sweeping my floor and I was ready to go the hell home.

A few minutes later I started talking to Rob, the skinny black kid who was working front counter that day, we were both saying we were ready to leave. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the light reflect on the doors the way it always did when ever someone walked in. Ron sighed a bit and I headed back to my area.

Next thing I now the guy from the truck is standing up front yelling at Rob. Like I told you earlier my new bosses were no Bill Cromers, my current boss was a younger woman with dark hair and a pentiont for being lazy. I knew she wouldn’t do anything, so I walked over to the counter ready for a confrontation.

The guy looked right at me and said "you! You little asshole! What? You think this is funny?" and he held up the M.E.A.T. button.

"Yeah" I said "actually I do" this is one of those situations were, looking back, I can think of thousands of better things to have said.

"Oh really!" he said "you like fuckin with people? I’m fuckin bleeding now you little shit, I’ve got blood all over my truck!"

"Dude? You’re bleeding?" I asked (it wouldn’t occur to me until after I woke up from the ass kicking that I had forgotten to close the pin, causing this sorry guy to stab himself) "what the hell did you do?"

He grabbed my shirt front with his bloody left hand. I looked at rob, his eyes were wide and he was running to get the boss. The guy punched me in the cheek, this was my first time ever being punched so I didn’t really know what happened at first, it didn’t hurt right away but it confused me, it would hurt later on. I was only standing up because he was holding me and he hit me again and spit on my face, then he dropped me, then he left.
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k.

It starts to get disturbing now.
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7
I was only out for a minute or so I’m told and when I awoke I saw the panicked face of my dark haired lazy boss bending over me and asking me if I’m o.k.. I stood up and she took me to the office to try and do first aid, only there wasn’t really anything to "aid”, his second punch hit my temple so I wasn’t bleeding at all.

After I told my boss what had happened and what I had been doing for about 6 months with the pamphlets she said she had to fire me, she wasn’t very nice about doing it either "get the hell out of my store" she said. I left and walked home jobless and with a headache.

This is about the time I started giving up. I started to hate most things and I stopped hanging out with my friends, human contact just sort of bothered me, all my friends had good jobs and were engaged, I didn’t have those things. I knew I was never going to build a fucking skyscraper; I would never even go to school. My life was going to consist of working jobs I hated for money that didn’t pay the bills, and if I got lucky I would get married a few times, have a kid and die of a heart attack in the back of some fast food place of the future where people were hardly even needed to run the place.

I took a new job, this time at the big one, the mother of all fast food and home to the famous clown. It took me less than a week to get the job. I decided to work the grill and avoid dealing with customers. Looking back I should have been amazed I got the damn job, but the thing about those places is that they don’t check references, ever. I was just glad to be away from people, "fuck em" I thought. I would make their food and collect my pay and have my real life somewhere else, this was just money.

I started to stay up really late every night and sleep in every day until about 2:30 p.m. I would only shave about once a week (if that) and I never did any laundry. My work uniforms as well as my every day clothes were caked with stains and stunk as a result. I started drinking. Every night after work I sat around getting fucked up and feeling sorry for myself.

I was 21 years old, my girl had left, my best friend was dead, and I had no future. Instead of going out and dealing with these problems in a reasonable manner I buried myself in escape and spent my time getting as lost as I possibly could.

At some point during this time I discover the bloody world of self mutilation. I cut myself profusely. Mostly in the bath tub, with a razor. I loved the way it looked, blood streaming down my arms and into the water, the way a gash like a canyon would slowly build bridges of scar tissue. Cutting myself was relaxing and at the same time invigorating. Nothing makes someone feel alive the way that seeing a few inches into there own skin does, the tissue that doesn’t bleed right away but instead slowly builds from a few tiny red dots at the center of the wound. My doctor tells me that the reason I enjoyed it so much is because it forced dopamine and adrenalin into my brain. "When your body gets injured, these are the natural responses to help you cope with the pain" he said. I asked him if he thought that pain was real and he said that "though the human mind can block out pain by rationalizing it away as a simple feeling, the problem with what you did frank is that you were seeking out that pain deliberately" witch is why I wasn’t content with just scratching the surface but actually had to see my flesh peel away from it self. I guess I can see his point but honestly I just like to bleed and the only reason I’m even telling you about this is that it leads into the final part of my account.
Most people who cut themselves don’t really go around showing it off or advertising the fact that they are masochists, in fact usually it is better off if no one knows at all, witch can cause some problems. The majority of my cutting was on my arms, I had tried all over but the arms just felt best. place a blade on your upper arm, push in just a bit, and with a tiny flick of the wrist you have a nice little football shaped ditch with lovely white tissue inside. It’s simple and quick. The problem started when I ran out of room on my upper arms and had to start cutting my forearms; witch meant wearing long sleeves to work.

The coldest day that summer was 75 degrees and I had to walk 45 minutes to work every day. Most days I was hung over and it’s amazing that I didn’t pass out from dehydration somewhere in the middle of Commerce Avenue. At least once a week my boss would ask me why I was wearing long sleeves and I would give some shitty excuse about being sick.

My new bosses name was Jason, I didn’t mind the guy or his damned annoying girlfriend who always hung around the store, her name was Betty. Honestly I hardly even noticed people anymore, people and their stupid dreams just got me pissed off, I didn’t want to hear about how someone was gonna be he first person to start a commercial space travel business and change the world once they got out of college.

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Wow, these are amazing. Keep them coming!

well, ok it gets progressively worse from here on...

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8

My basic day consisted of charring meat and making sandwiches. If you have ever worked in fast food you know that it is stressful as all hell and that you only have about 30 seconds to make the orders before the little timer starts blinking and the person bagging orders starts looking at you funny and giving impatient sighs, if your really slow the manager will come and help you out,, reminding you all the while just how shitty your existence is.

One day I was really busy, my computer screens were full and nothing in my area was stocked because the fucker who had worked in the morning found it easier to be lazy and go home than to refill my ketchup. Eventually Jason came over and started to help me.
“I can handle this" I said.

"Just drop buns man" he said. Looking back Jason was an o.k. guy and it really is a shame what happened to him, but that’s another story.

I started to drop buns and Jason started to make sandwiches, he was pretty fast and it only took him a minute to run out of meat in the nasty plastic trays that fill up with grease and never get cleaned. "I got the buns" he said "just drop me some meat".

So I started to cook some burgers, I was wearing a long-sleeved blue cotton shirt that day and the sleeve seam was rubbing against one of my scabs. Eventually the rubbing led to peeling and my scab fell off and down to my wrist. I felt it there and then I looked at the meat. On the edge of one of the little patties was a charred piece of something, maybe meat, I don’t know. This gave me an idea. I scooped that run of meat off of the grill and gave them to Jason, than I got 8 more patties from the little freezer and took the scab from my sleeve, it was sort of big so before I closed the clamshell I tossed it onto the grill and grabbed the grill scraper, then I cut off the tiniest piece I could and scraped the rest into the grease trough that hung from the side of the grill, then I took my spatula and carefully placed the tiny bit of dried blood on top of one of the patties and closed the clamshell.

As the meat cooked I started to think about what would happen if I got caught. I would be arrested, I would go to jail, I would get raped in the ass. then I started to think about what would happen if I didn’t get caught, ever eat a burger and bite into something that you weren’t quite sure what it was, you didn’t call the police, at least I didn’t, I just tossed it aside and finished my burger. When the clamshell popped I could barely distinguish my blood from the chopped flesh of some poor cow. I handed the meat to Jason, he didn’t notice. Thus began my go at violent activism. If no one wanted to be sensible than I would make them sick.

I just wanted to help people become healthy. It’s a sad fact that though we live in a country where we are lucky enough to pick and chose what we eat in a sensible manner, most of us go for taste over health and therefore take advantage of the good fortune we have. Not only do these places ruin our lives but also the lives of animals and the planet.

A recent study shows that nearly 25% of American teenagers that live in poverty are obese, a similar study shows that many fast food companies have designed their advertising to target minority youth. There is a reason they started putting black people in the commercials and it isn’t racial tolerance, why does a restaurant need to celebrate black history month anyways. There is also a reason that those burgers are only one dollar and it isn’t to save you money.

If I sound like a prick than just be glad you didn’t eat any of my food.

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