Man Speaks Out At Local BK

Harold Spelver, having been laid off four years ago from his job as counter man at Radio Shack, had to resort to feeding his wife and eleven children at Burger King, taking advantage especially of their "Dollar Menu." But last Tuesday Spelver had had enough. Upon entering the store and slipping on yet another puddle of vomit outside, he, this time without wiping his feet, angrily approached the counter. A bored looking cashier with the usual "kit" of headphones, microphone, and battery pack, looking as if ready to land a helicopter, asked to take his order. Spelver replied, "In a minute but I'd like to issue a complaint!"

Before he was able to finish the pilot look-alike said to him smiling "Sure sir! I can help you with that and handed him a questionnaire with the title "To Better Serve You" bearing a picture of "The King" mascot, bowing while removing a cardboard crown. Confused though not swayed, Spelver ignored the several "yes/no" and multiple choice questions - questions such as:

"Do our Super Size cups continue to split and spill contents in the front seat of car?" Y/N

"Does ketchup still have used motor oil aftertaste?" Y/N

and other food questions such as:

"Quality and taste?" with multiple choice options:
a)Disgusting b) Inedible c)Fairly Un-digestible d) Yummeee! e)Keep 'um Comin!!"

Equipment and facility:
"Have you ever broken your finger in one of our straw dispensers?" Y/N

"Have you ever suffered a skull fracture(s) from slipping on our perpetually wet floors?" Y/N

"Have you ever had an asthma attack from fumes emitted by urinal and tank deodorizers?" Y/N

Spelver grabbed a sharpie from next to the cash register and wrote across the questionnaire in large capital letters : "CLEAN UP THE FUCKING PUKE!!!!!" and handed the form back to the cashier who placed it on a shelf beneath the counter.

Spelver placed his order and waited, occasionally wrapping his knuckles on the counter pleased at his charge and with a new sense of empowerment. When his order arrived consisting of six grease-stained bags weighing nearly 21 pounds and nearly a dozen plastic cups, all for about fourteen bucks, he stuffed it all in his backpack, filled the drinks with several gallons of assorted flavored soft drinks and thinking quickly, looking side-to-side, bolted for the emergency fire exit, half-turning with athletic skill and with all his weight (and that of the food) slammed upon the spring-loaded handle and ran through the parking lot, never looking back. As he drove home, he mused at his having spoken up about the vomit and of his unabashed exit and now, satisfied, sunk his teeth into his first of three Whoppers.