2012 05 10 My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard

Log Title:
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…

Characters:
Armand Phantasm

IC Date:
10 May 2012

Location:
McDougles Restaurant

Brief Log Summary::
We determine the very first thing Armand notices about people.

Rating:
pg13

There is no TS in this log::
Yes

Post your log::

-==[ McDougles Restaurant - Times Square ]==------

The Golden Arcs welcome your entry and smiling faces behind the counters are ready to take your order. The smiling faces often wear blue slacks, white shirts covered in plaid red bests with matching tie and beret with fluffy ball on top. McDougles is designed just like any other 'similar named' fast food restaurant. Plenty of hard bench seats and brushed steel tables. Soda and condiment dispensers await your desires while large windows look out into Times Square. Here you can order a Big MC, Filet o'Cod, Three Quarter Pounder, French Fries, Icy Coke, Thick Shake, Sundae or an Apple Pie.

It is Thursday, and thanks to some, issues last month, Mike finds himself with a free Thursday afternoon and evening. With nothing to do and no one to see, Mike can spend it anyway he wishes. So what does the musician do? He heads to McDougles.

Passing by the golden arc etched glass door, the knitcapped, thrift store attired, musician comes to a stop as he takes note of a considerably long line. With one of the three registers open, there are a few rather irritated looking people waiting as a woman at the front of the line takes her time looking at the menu and ignoring the elderly man behind the counter. After all, they may have CHANGED something without some ad campaign to mention it. Mike sighs and gets in the back of the line. Ok, there are SOME drawbacks to picking some place cheap.

20 dollars have been used to purchase things from cheaper stores and Armand carries them with him with his messenger bag slung over a shoulder and his hair pulled out of his face in a loose ponytail as he looks sighs softly and comes up behind where Mike stands with a thoughtful expression. A 5 dollar bill is carefully selected from a pouch in his bag before he looks back up. "Oh! Look here…I know Monsieur Fiver, it is not hotdogs but the arches are beautiful no?" And yes, he is talking to his money.

The line isn't moving all that quickly as the woman takes her time allowing for elderly person behind the register to display the years of practice they've had being patient. Smile in place, they don't seem to mind. Perhaps he's using the opportunity to take one of those open eyed naps. Either way, he's relaxed. A man a few persons back in line is not so relaxed. Grumbling, he looks to the menu, then the woman, and then to the metal shelving that is currently hosting a slew of apple pies waiting to be sold.

Mike, not having experienced to full time spent waiting behind the woman is still doing fine. When Armand's discussion with his money registers upon his hearing, he looks to the other long haired man. "Monsieur wha-" He pauses in his question, glance settling on the five dollar bill, realization coming upon his features, "Ah."

Armand peeks up as he looks around Mike curiously and then looks up at the man with a slow blink. "…Monsieur Fiver says you have the ass of a man who knows tings about this place and what is good to nibble on." He offers an attempt at a 'sweet' smile, those full lips parting briefly before falling back into place as he looks around once more.

Mike's brow raises as he's so 'sweetly' insulted. He glances to the person in front of him that is likely more qualified than he is before he looks back to Armand. "Did you just call me fat?" He asks, tone a little confused.

"COME ON LADY! THE MENU IS THE SAME! PICK SOMETHING!"

Armand blinks and then blinks again. "…non! Of course not, you are not fat but Sir Mix-A-Lot perhaps may have gay brother who decides to make song about boys with plenty of backside…I just need help with choosing what to get…" Then he jumps abit at the shout, eyes widening as he looks around almost paranoid. "…the poor lady…"

The woman frowns, turning to look to the man who shouted, "IF IT HASN'T CHANGED THEN WHY I CAN'T FIND IT ON THE MENU!" She turns, harumphing at the rude behavior before she starts to look to the menu again.

Mike blinks, his posture shifting so that his butt isn't quite facing Armand. The action of his seemingly is unnoticed by the musician before he glances up to the menu, ignoring the woman's plight at the moment, "Depends on what you want. I just order from the dollar menu."

Armand worries his bottom lip as the lady goes back to searching the menu and he scratches his cheek before eyeing Mike for a few moments. "Hmm, this will work then, if everything only cost one dollar, then I can get five things." He holds up his dollar bill. "You see, is perfect budget."

"Four things," Mike corrects, tilting his head in indication to the itty bitty section of the overhead menu displaying the 'dollar menu', "You're forgetting sales tax."

An employee walks over to another register and starts tapping buttons into it. The line behind the woman starts to shift over towards that one until the employee retrieves a slip of paper from the receipt printer and runs to the door. There's a small chorus of mutterings joining with the unhappy man from earlier.

Armand counts something on his fingers before nodding slowly. "Fine..I get drink and 3 nibbles." He hmms softly before he watches the line start to move over then somebody goes running and he just stares. "…what in Hades…"

"Lot of stores use the register system for employee clock in and clock outs." Mike explains, not seeming to blink at the fast food worker's quick departure, "Employee's shift probably ended. And considering how things are right now, would you want to stick around with a line like this?"

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING!"

"LADY JUST STAND ASIDE UNTIL YOU KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU WANT!"

"WHERE'S THE DAMN MANAGER? WHY ARE THE OTHER REGISTERS NOT OPEN?!"

"Oui…but perhaps for such popular shop they need more workers to work when open?" Armand has to point this out as he listens to all the shouts and such, shifting weight from one foot to the other. "And perhaps special line just for old people."

Mike looks over to the display for job applications, and then to the kitchen area where the other workers are dealing with cooking. "A slow lane," he summarizes, giving a half laugh at the idea, shaking his head, "It's funny how even when someone's out of a job, how few of them would even consider working here."

A larger man emerges from the back office area and trundles over to the counter area, starting to tap at the register. Unlike last time, the line does not shift. Ooooh no. They know a trap when they see o- "Can I help the next person?" The man asks, glancing up to look to the line?

With the utterance of that question, the entire line shifts over to the new register quickly.

Armand snaps his fingers. "Cookies, cookies always work." Then he cranes his neck to peer at the line as it moves over. Then he looks to Mike and gestures after the shifting line. "After you Monsieur Tiny Tush."

"Could you do me a favor and quit bringing up the size of my ass?" Mike replies, turning to make his two adjustment steps that ensure that he's in the moved line, shifting a hand into his pocket, he pulls out a small wad of one dollar bills and some loose coins, doing his own bit of accouning as one person blissfully steps out of line, waiting as the kitchen folks move about collecting their food items.

As for the indecisive woman, she finally smiles and looks to her own cashier, "I'd like a chicken sandwich." The elderly man smiles and looks to the register. "Grilled or Regular?" The woman frowns, growing silent.

Armand coughs softly and shrugs helplessly. "I've had rough day Monsieur, forgive, I take comfort in the simplest of things now." Then he's clutching his five dollar bill rather tightly and just waiting.

"A rough day." Mike murmurs, giving a slow nod as he frowns a bit, before giving a sigh and shrug, "Alright." Forgiven." Leaving it at that, he shuffles up once more as two more people exit the line, seemingly sharing an order.

"I'll have Grilled!" "Okay… Would you like fries with that?" "…"

"First, I lose my cans." Armand begins to explain. "I spend hours collecting cans and bottles in Central Park and almost have 20 dollars worth. But then it all got blown up along with all mon stuff." He adjusts his grip on his shopping bags. "Now I am here, and I find pie and meat and milkshake maybe and fries and then I eat and then maybe breathe again without being almost killed." He may be pouting a bit before almost trembling with anticipation as the line moves forward.

"That's a lot of cans." Mike murmurs, giving a slow nod, "Alright, yeah. That's the makings of a shitty day." As another pair of people exit the line, Mike reaches the counter and glances to the menu. The side of his lips twitches before he sighs, and shakes his head, "Small coffee. Black. That's it." Retrieving a solitary dollar and a nickel, he sets it down on the counter before he turns to look to Armand, "Yeah, you should probably get a milkshake."

Armand exhales shakily when he makes it to the counter, after Mike and he slows down how he speaks to articulate more clearly. "You are very beautiful today, yes, I-I would like…one vanilla shake, one apple pie, one ummm the one with the meat? Oui, all of the meat and vegetables and is very thick. Oui! The Big MC, and ahh…fries." A firm nod. "That is all." He sets the 5 dollar bill carefully on the counter.

Upon getting his coffee from one of the employees, Mike reaches a hand over Armand's five. But instead of taking it, the rest of the bills Mike had in hand get dropped on top of it. "Make that a large shake." Added order made, Mike turns and heads out of the restaurant.

Armand watches the five dollar bill get covered by more dollar bills and he blinks. "…there must be sometin' in the water, everybody being nice…" He turns to wave a hand after Mike. "Goo' Bye Monsieur! I will treasure the image of the milkshake for eternity!" Then he looks back to the counter where he ordered his food and ducks his head sheepishly. "Merci…"

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