The Burger King is the lord master of the plasticized undead. He escaped from one of those BodyWorlds shows. (In truth, he just walked off one day.
No one stopped him.
The people working there had been driven to
the brink of unutterable madness by all the ...
... staring.
And that smile...) This whole silent-pitchman-for-fastfood-burgers act? Nothing but a cover for his true plot. He seeks a queen. He may have several already. I've been monitoring the situation. I'll make periodic visits to the drive-through (in case I need to hit the gas and flee) and order the grilled chicken sandwich, the safest item on their menu. (...it's all the chemicals they put in the food) I'll make eye contact with whoever's working the drive-through window. Every once in a while it'll be a young girl. Looking at her, you might describe her as "cute," or "pretty." Still pure, still unsullied by life, but with a subtle hint of wariness... (...it's all the chemicals they put in the food) ...as if she's not yet aware of the unblinking eyes... ... staring ... On return visits, I'll see her a second time. Maybe a third. But after that... No more. (...it's all the chemicals they put in the food) Eventually, my return visits to the drive-through window will reveal a new one: cute, pretty, largely blind to the pliable shadows molding themselves around, and into her shape. There's always a new one. (...it's all the chemicals they put in the food) But never for long. | 
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chuck_lw's journal
