Priva-see chapter 3

I was trolling people on the Internet when Scar charged in through my door, with a million emotions on his face.

            “They closed Wendy’s!” bellowed Scar.

            “Oh, s**t. When?”

            “I don’t know! I ran home as soon as I heard the news.”

             “That’s so crap. There is hardly any place to eat around here.”

“We should go over there and pay our respect.”

“People pay respect to dead people, Scar. They don’t pay respect to dead fast food restaurant.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I am coming.” I relented.

 

Wendy’s was only ten blocks away from us, which made it even more puzzling that it managed to slip away from our lives without making so much as whisper. The premise had its windows boarded up and painted white. It looked a lot like an abstract painting. It even had a nametag. It read “For Lease”.

“It’s like looking at my own tombstone.” Remarked Scar, “So many great memories, gone.”

“Jason told me that he got his first blowjob here.”

“Bullshit. You can’t get inappropriate in a fast food restaurant without getting found out.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yeah. Cindy tried to give me a handjob at a Popeyes. We were found out as soon as she got my fat dick out.”

“Jesus, Scar. Have some class.”

“Why do you think they closed it?” Scar asked.

“Maybe rats, food poisoning. Who knows?” but after I looked around and saw the deserted streets, it became abundantly obvious, “this place is too quiet.”

A rather homeless looking man approached us and gave us his wisdom.

“The city’s too expensive to live in, sons. Everyone has either moved to Harlem or Brookyln, and they are taking their businesses with them. The city is dead.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Cooool. Ten out of ten. Would recommend to a friend.” Scar and I said mockingly in unison. Mortified, the homeless man uttered a few cuss words and left.

“The gentrification is now completed,” lamented Scar, “I should have listened to that girl with the flyers.”

“That’s the exact opposite of what ‘gentrification’ means.” I corrected him.

“If by ‘complete opposite’, you mean- never mind, I am not even going to salvage that one. You win that point.”

“Well, we are not going to bring it back by staring at it. Let’s go get a burger.”

“You want McDonalds?”

“I so want McDonalds.”

 

Scar and I ordered two Double Quarter Pounders meal, twenty pieces of chicken nuggets, two harsh browns, and two Big Macs.

“Get acquainted with our faces,” said I to the cashier, “We are annoying, and we will come here often.”

Our communist blood made us poured out all the fries into a shared pile. Scar was the first to dig in. He stuffed his face with fries and curled his face into a satisfied smile.

“You know, for a guy who’s obsessed with achieving the perfect body, you sure eat a lot of fast food.”

“My dear child,” said Scar didactically, “you cannot achieve the perfect body by eating only healthy food. You need darkness to balance out the light. Yin and yang. Burger and salad.”

“You sound like you are in a cult.”

“I am my own cult.”

“Well, I just want you to know what you are eating. This fast food stuffs, man, it’s all pink slime.”

            “Are you saying you don’t want any nuggets?”

            “F**k off my nuggets,” snapped I, “50-50.”

            Later, we raised the paper cups bearing the Golden Arch. Swallowing his food, Scar said,

            “A toast to Wendy’s. A fallen friend.”