Wendy's Doesn't Carry Whoppers...

(note - I have not any pictures, video, or anything to prove my tale, just know, I witnessed an epic awesome at Wendy's that will most likely go unmatched for the next 5-6 days of my life...)

Sunday night, as I do most sunday's, I played some basketball with a few buddies at an outside park. Once finished, we decided to hit up Wendy's for thyne glory that is the Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger.



Before my buddies and I placed our orders, I noticed a fat burly redneck walk in. He was horrendous; torn-up stained grey tank top, stretched out to the farthest possible limits of cotton fabric, faded trucker hat with the logo of some lumber yard or tractor company on the front, and a layer of thick black hair that lingered above all visible skin, like some sort of rancid cloud cover. One of those people who just makes your stomach turn from being in the room with them. I was sure he probably smelled like poisonous aftershave and cigarette smoke, but I wasn’t about to get close enough to check. I ordered my usual with the guy behind the counter. The cashier looked like the average high school stoner, and stood about 5'11" high. His eyes suggested that he had lit one up before work, but I think he was just tired. I paid the man, and walked over to the other end of the counter to wait for my food. The burlyman was now placing his order. I got my food, and carried my bag over to the condiment counter to pilfer salt and pepper. The general ambience of the dining room kept me from hearing the exchange between the cashier and the asshole, but once I turned around to see the redneck leaning over the counter, it was obvious that something had gone awry in the ordering process. The redneck was trying to get in the cashiers face and work his intimidation game. The cashier, however, was having none of that, and was leaning backwards away from him. That was until the redneck grabbed the cashier by the collar of the shirt and yanked him closer, within kissing range. By now, I had stopped what I was doing to watch what was going on. The cashier was doing his best to keep his cool, even while in the fat mans grasp. I was glancing around the dining room to see if anyone else was watching this, but apparently everyone’s burgers were tap dancing or some shit because everyone was completely oblivious. I glanced back over to the counter just in time to see the redneck sucker punch the cashier in the face, sending him sprawling back.





The redneck stepped back and pointed at him, saying “NEXT TIME YOU'LL KNOW.” and then turned to walk away.

I had a moment of guilt. This fuck just punched a cashier for doing his job, and he’s walking out, apparently getting away with it. The cashier is just standing there holding his face, silent. Should I say something? I should stick up for this guy. I’m going to. Oh shit, the guys walking out and it's all over, but that’s bull, man.

All this internal monologue came to a screeching halt as I watched the cashier climb up onto the counter, screaming furiously at him, leap a good six feet in the air, and flying fucking-stomped the fat man right in the face as he turned around. The action couldn’t have panned out better if Michael Bay were directing it.







Both feet, straight on, fucking DRILLS into the fat mans face like a goddamn jackhammer, who then hits the ground with such force that it could have broken the tile. Think Marv from Sin City, blasting through the windshield of the police cruiser feet first, and then anyone falling down in Family Guy. No real falling action, just standing, and then on the floor. The cashier made a loud “RRRGH!” and the redneck made a loud “HOOF”





After both parties had hit the ground, the cashier immediately starts pummeling the redneck in the face, each punch making a sound similar to slapping a steak against a hard surface. The rest of the customers may not have been paying attention before, but the situation carried their undivided attention now. It took a good five or six punches before employees spilled out of the work area and pulled them apart, the manager screaming at the top of his lungs, telling the man to stay right where he is, and instructing another cashier to call the police. Fat man decides discretion is the greater part of valor and tears ass out of the Wendy’s, gurgling off in his tanky rusted out truck.

The employees took the scrapper back into the kitchen, and the manager apologized to everyone for the scene, following his henchmen shortly thereafter. Figuring that there was nothing more to see here, I took my order to a booth and we proceeded with our delicious meal.

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Do you work a crappy job and have kicked someone in the shin while at it?