The House of the Wilted French Fry.

“You’ve got to water it down. Everyone will like you better if you do,” she said.
But honestly, I don’t see how pouring water over a plateful of french fries will make people like me. This watered down gruel is pretty hard to swallow. I’d rather have something real, something with some flavor.
“Don’t give me that attitude. We like to keep a nice environment around here,” she said with a empty smile. “Look around you, everybody else is eating it…and they’re happy to do it. Why can’t you be more like them? Remember, cloneliness is next to godliness.”
And man, that waitress is something else too…I’ve got the blond feeding me bland and it’s got me in a bind.
I mean, this place looks pretty nice…it looks perfect actually. And the food comes fast…If only the food that came so fast didn’t make me think so slow…if only it wasn’t such a cheap soggy mishmash.
You know what?
So what if everybody else is lovin it.
So what if I stick out like an apple in a plate of potato chips and bacon.
I’m gettin outta this place.
I think I’ll go somewhere where they give it to me straight instead…I gotta watch what I put into my mind and body if I wanna stay healthy.

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