1/5 Gered K. 11 months ago on Google
In
this
Orwellian
merry-go-round
of
a
marketplace,
we
find
ourselves,
we
can
look
to
the
Colonel's
original
recipe
of
rent-creep
slowly
souring
in
the
gentrification
of
Queen
Anne.
There
on
the
border
of
Uptown
sits
an
antipode
of
KFC
and
Taco
Bell,
a
hellish
alliance
of
ancient
Confederate
spices
and
sodium-laden
Mexi-meats.
It
stands
as
a
monolith,
somehow
enduring
the
trials
of
late-stage
capitalism.
Against
our
better
judgment
-
or
perhaps
because
of
a
car
full
of
hungry
children
teetering
on
the
edge
of
a
meltdown
-
we
stopped.
We
thought
that
at
least
if
we
did,
we'd
know
the
cause
of
the
impending
explosion
was
simple
fatigue.
Oh,
how
wrong
we
were...
Screams
erupted
from
the
backseat
as
we
quickly
realized
that
the
hapless
employee
had
delivered
fire
sauce
into
the
children's
bags,
instead
of
the
ketchup
we'd
requested.
In
retrospect,
we
should
have
known.
"We'd
like
two
kids'
meals
with
chicken
nuggets,
fruit
punch,
and
fries
with
ketchup.
Also,
a
number
4
with
sour
cream
and
fire
sauce."
Having
paid
an
astonishing
$38
at
the
window,
they
handed
us
our
order
and
a
couple
of
milk
cartons.
"Milk?"
We
asked,
bewildered.
"Sorry,
we
asked
for
fruit
punch."
Had
dementors
just
passed
through
here?
Why
were
they
staring
at
us
vacantly?
"Um,
sorry,
yes...
fruit
punch,
please."
She
swapped
them
out
and
we
pulled
away,
our
gaze
falling
on
the
receipt.
For
about
$40,
we
got
two
small
kids'
meals
-
with
no
toy
-
and
a
single
adult
meal.
Resigned
to
our
fate
but
maintaining
silence,
the
kids
happily
dug
into
their
bags.
"Why
are
these
so
small?"
A
tiny
voice
inquired,
holding
up
the
smallest
chicken
nugget
we
had
ever
seen.
"Um,
that's
popcorn
chicken,"
my
wife
answered.
"I
don't
have
sour
cream
on
mine,"
I
noticed
aloud.
And
then
came
the
scream.
As
our
daughter's
fiery
experience
was
doused
with
a
generous
swig
of
her
baby
brother's
milk,
she
screamed,
"Why
would
anyone
ever
eat
that?
How
is
that
even
food?!"
In
that
moment,
the
wisdom
of
her
words
dawned
upon
us.
We
should
probably
never
go
back.
For
$40,
we
could
dine
on
healthier,
better,
correctly
prepared
food.
Instead,
we'd
subjected
ourselves
to
this
dystopian
drive-thru
and
inadvertently
robbed
our
daughter
of
her
innocence
regarding
the
existence
of
fire
sauce.
So,
one
star
19 people found this review helpful 👍
