Lord of the God Damned Flies.
Anarchy, Godless Communism, oil wrestling, Zombie holocaust.
Do I have your attention?
You’re never quite ready for weird.
I love weird, don’t get me wrong, but I am rarely prepared for weird.
I am in Hollywood.
Better than that, I am early for my appointment, and I am hungry.
Time to grab a bite.
There are many dicey crapshoot restaurants in Hollywood.
But McDonalds is not one of them.
I opted for the golden arches because, at least with their food, I know why I have the shits.
It removes all the guesswork.
When you walk into a food establishment and the first, overwhelming odor is urine, that is considered a bad sign in many cultures.
And it was not just at the front door, it was all thru the dining room, and up at the counter.
I was in the middle of my order when the first symptom of a down happened.
I had yet to make my drink order, (I dislike Value Meals), when the cashier leaned across the counter and pointed at the drink kiosk.
A homeless woman was refilling a battered cup.
“You, you can’t refill that! You left the building!”
Ah, clear violation of the refill regs, I get it.
The homeless woman happened to be on her last fucking nerve.
“FUCK YOU, BITCH!”
And the woman went off.
George Carlin had a famous bit about the 7 dirty words.
This woman managed to use all of them before she chucked her torn up cup on the ground and stormed out.
And then I got a smile from the cashier, as if it no big deal, and we finished my order.
I took my new cup over to get a soda, all the while trying to decide if Diet Coke or Diet Dr. Pepper went better with the urine smell.
I heard them call my number before I was done at the drink counter, so I finished and went over a few minutes later.
And then, something interesting happened.
I told the guy that was my order, he asked for my receipt, I showed it, and he looked over at the cashier.
And she nodded.
Evidently, having the number is not enough, the cashier has to vouch for you.
I might have stepped into an alternate universe, I’ll get back to on that one, the jury is still out.
I grab my meal and scurry like a frightened rat to an unoccupied, dry plastic booth.
And I barely sit down before a man appears right in front of my booth.
And for just the barest of seconds, the background smell of urine is overwhelmed.
By the solid stench of BO.
“Got any change, help me out, I need something.”
Mumbling is always a solid way to pitch anything.
As I am not swayed, I shake my head and he walks away.
And then an epic moment happened.
The man that just hit me up for change is walking down the aisle, and he is stopped by a woman, who definitely looks homeless.
AND SHE HITS HIM UP FOR CHANGE!
Its a ballsy move, but she did it.
And the awesome part is, I am close enough to hear the exchange.
“Got any change, Bonk?” (She slurred his name, not sure if thats right.)
“What do you want?” (Bonk seems wary, smart move.)
“Just food, I haven’t eaten.”
“Someone gave me some ones. Get something.” (Bonk, it seems, is a better guy than I am.)
He digs in his pocket, and hands her a few dollars. Solid move.
Without saying a word, she takes it, moves into the main aisle, turns right to the front doors, instead of left to the cashier to order.
And she splits.
When she took the right, Bonk began screaming.
“LYING BITCH, FUCKING BITCH!”
And he follows her out.
Spring is approaching, and love is in the air.
Romance come to the Lord of the Flies.