by Gabe Branhymn

Created on: February 04, 2010

Being hungry at 2:30 in the morning is dangerous. No self respecting chef or cook in the world is awake at that hour. Their apathetic teenage counterparts work the night shift because it's slow and requires no skill. The ample down time results in boredom. Boredom leads to insects in the microwave, questionable hygienic practices and experiments with bodily fluids in the cole slaw. Having once been a teenage cook, I’ve learned to never trust the cole slaw. As a bartender, I've learned to pack food on the nights I close down the bar. It saves me the hassle and hazards of finding an open restaurant at 2:30am. But I didn’t pack any food last night. Last night I was lazy. And that’s why I’m in jail.

 I had just finished the late shift. I locked up the bar, climbed into my truck and headed home. My commute is long and rural. I hadn’t eaten since lunch and my stomach was about to cannibalize my liver for sustenance. I didn’t have any food worth eating at home so I took a detour. I found a fast food chain that claimed to specialize in “Chikin”. I pulled in hoping the ability to cook and the ability to spell required two very different parts of the brain. “Drive-thru open all night” flashed neon from the window. I pulled my truck around to the speaker and sat quietly, waiting for recognition that never came. I counted two dozen spelling errors on the menu and hoped they were deliberate. “Nuggits” was my favorite. If all bad food was spelled poorly, it would be that much easier to identify and avoid. My patience lapsed and I sounded the horn. I regretted this decision immediately. You should never antagonize the people you’re about to ask for food. The speaker in front of me came to life briefly and died as quick. It screeched a few times before finally saying, “Hello?” “That’s a start.” I said, annoyed and unable to hide it. “What do you want, dude? I mean…How may I help you, dude…sir?” said the speaker. I flashed back to the few times I had experimented with illicit substances and wondered which drug this young man was on. “I’ll take the deluxe chicken sandwich with no sauce.” I figured no sauce reduced the likelihood of gross contamination by at least 37%. “Yeah, alright… pull around to the window.” said the speaker. I put my truck in gear and moved a few inches before I heard a scream through

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