No More Straws

It began as any other day. The customers gave their custom, and the workers worked. The scene was KKK (Kentucky Kooked Khicken), and nobody could have predicted the horrors that were to be born of this fateful day.

Part 1: The Beginening

"Here is your food, in exchange we will require this many cash" said the man standing behind the till.

"Joyful joys, that is the precise amount of cashes I have" replied the customer, who was not standing behind the till also.

As made clear in the introduction, it begun as any other day at the fast food outlet. Everything ran smoothly throughout the begining of the day. Customers came and went, and some came back, then didn't leave, then left. The manager looked cheerily over his crowded little food outlet, and let out a sigh. He was so proud (Pride is a sin. See that? I'm setting this character up for a fall later on, but keeping it sly, so the reader doesn't immediately realise. Like, subconscious and stuff). He wandered up and down the little kitchen, ensuring enough chicken fat was poured into the coca cola mix and making sure sufficient saliva went into each bargain bucket. Customers always got what they paid for at KKK, and he was damned proud of it (See? Pride again. This guy is gunna get it).

It was as he was checking the stockroom at around 1 o'clock that things began to slide. He decided to check the ketchup and BBQ sauce. Both were in abundance. There were paper bags a-plenty and they were in no immediate danger of running out of cups. He smiled, satisfied that they were set for at least a few more days, and made for the door. It was at this moment that he noticed a box lying open on it's side, having fallen from it's shelf. He moved closer, then recoiled in horror at the sight of several straws lying motionless on the ground. The open box was now empty.

"What the hell? Jerry!" he yelled, turning away, unable to bear the sight of the straws any longer. Jerry came bounding in, smiling widely, and holding a cup of industrial grade saliva.

"What's wrong?" He asked, noticing the manager's pained expressions.

"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG? LOOK!" screamed the manager, and pointed a finger at the ghastly scene in front of him.

"Oh God! The straws! What happened?" Cried Jerry, as he too recoiled.

"I don't know, Jerry. I just don't know. Whoever did this cannot have a soul. They are the most evil person in the world. These straws are completely unusable now, according to health and safety regulations. I...I just don't know what sick freak would do this"

"We'll have to figure out who did this later, right now we must inform the other staff members that we have no straws" said Jerry, sweating profusely.

"Yes, you're right. But do it quietly and carefully. Don't let the customers know, I don't want to cause a panic."

"I...I don't think I can do this, sir" said Jerry, wiping away tears.

"You can Jerry, you can do this! Your the best man I've got. I believe in you. Hurry, I'm gunna order more straws."

"God help us."

Part 2: The Continuation

Jerry slipped out of the store room. checking carefully that no customers were watching, he moved through the restaurant telling each member of staff to meet him next to the saturated fat injector at the back of the kitchen. He made a small announcement to the customers, telling them that the tills would be closed for a minute whilst he gave the staff members a motivational speech, and then made his way to the meeting point. He had never been so nervous and worried in his life. Sweat poured from his every orifice, and his face was maroon.

"Okay" he began. "What I'm about to tell you might shock you, but you have to promise not to scream. It is imperative that you stay calm, at least on the outside. If the customers find out about this, we're all doomed."

"What is it Jerry?" Asked the closest worker. "Did we accidentally put another human limb in a bargain bucket?"

"No, this is far worse. We...We have run out of straws."

Every member of staff went silent. No one even breathed. Several passed out instantly. One died.

"I know. Remember, we cannot let the customers know. Please people, we have to put on our brave faces and go out there, before they suspect something is wrong."

"But...What if they order a meal? What do we do? WHAT DO WE DO?" Screamed one of the workers

"Please keep it down! I don't know. There are still a few straws out there, right? Just try to convince them not to buy meals. Remind them of the lower costs of food alone, and tell them to try the salad."

There was a brief pause, and everyone burst out laughing hysterically.

"Haha, you see? You're feeling better already. But seriously now, stay brave. We can get through this together."

A loud clatter made everyone look round. There, under the grill, was a boy. He had knocked off a frying pan as he turned to make his escape. He had heard the entire thing.

"STOP HIM!!!" Screamed Jerry. "HE KNOWS TOO MUCH!!!"

The boy stood up and ran. The staff gave chase. He dived over the deep fat fryer, and made his way across to the drinks machine. He was cut off by 3 workers, each brandishing a frying pan. He looked around frantically and grabbed a handfull of seven secret herbs and spices. He threw this at the workers, blinding them, and flipped over there heads as he made his way towards the sinks. He was halted by a hail of chicken wings being hurled by several more workers. One caught him on the arm, and he fell to his knees, clutching it. Just then, the workers parted and Jerry made his way to the front. He stood face to face with the boy, wielding a supersized chicken drumstick.

"We cannot let you live. I am sorry it had to come to this." He said, as he raised the drumstick high above his head.

"You can strike me down, but you cannot hide this forver. Sooner or later, the people will find out, and when they do, they'll be really annoyed. You'll lose customer satisfaction and probably recieve complaints." said the boy, smirking.

"Die, you bastard!" shouted Jerry, and he brought down the drumstick with great force, killing the boy instantly.