I don't know where to begin with this.
You probably won't believe me, but I've taken quite a liking to Wendy's. For a fast food place, they have a great menu. Their menu makes as much sense as 2 plus 2 is 4 minus 1, that's 3, quick maths. Everyday man's on the block. Anyways... Wendy's scares me at the same time. I mean, there is nothing better than a good burger after you smoke trees, but something about that restaurant... it's like when you see your girl in the park, and think "Wow, that girl is a uckers." But, as we all know, you can't turn down a burger just because when the ting went quack quack quack, you man were ducking.
Anyways...
I think my local Wendy's is cursed.
Everytime I walk past it, I hear "Hold tight, Asnee."
That's not all...
the place exudes an aura, like when he's got the pumpy.
Anyways...
I am writing because I am scared... extremely scared. Almost as scared as when you gotta hold tight, my man because he's got the frisbee.
You understand, right? I mean, it's like when I trap, trap, trap on the phone, movin' that cornflakes.
I mean, rice krispies, hold tight my girl, Whitney.
So, in conclusion...
Wendy's is most certainly cursed. Cursed like when you on the road doin' ten toes, like my toes. You man thought I froze, I see a peng girl, then I pose. If she ain't on it, I ghost, hah, look at your nose. You donut, nose long like garden hose.
But, the severity of the curse is not the issue here. The issue is the severity of the curse.
Yes, very severe curse.
Anyways...
My best friend, let's call him... his real name, Tim. He once heard a story about an event which happened in Wendy's. It was orchestrated by Burger King to try and shut them down, or so it is rumored. One day, some dude walked into Wendy's and said "I tell her man's not hot, I tell her man's not hot. The girl told me, "Take off your jacket." I said, "Babes, man's not hot." I tell her man's not hot. I tell her man's not hot. The girl told me, "Take off your jacket." I said, "Babes, man's not hot."
Truly spooky.
Anyways...
I cannot help but recall...
the most important raindeer of all...
Rudolph the red nosed raindeer!
Err, I mean...
Whenever I walk past Wendy's, I recall the story my totally real friend Tim told me. It spooks me out. To calm myself, I just think "Hop out the four-door with the .44, it was one, two, three and four. Chillin' in the corridor, your dad is forty-four. And he's still callin' man for a draw, let him know. When I see him, I'm gonna spin his jaw. Take man's Twix by force, send man shop by force. Your girl knows I've got the sauce, no ketchup. Just sauce, raw sauce. Ah, yo, boom, ah."
Oh man...
Just recalling this next part gives me anxiety. Yesterday, I was walking past Wendy's, when I heard the most abominable sound I have ever laid my eyes upon "The ting goes skrrrahh, pap, pap, ka-ka-ka."
This scared me alot. You see, it was nighttime. I forgot to mention it earlier. Everything's scarier at night, don't you think? Even poorly written stories can be scary. Well, maybe not.
Anyways...
I looked towards the direction of the sound. You see, I have super hearing. I forgot to mention it earlier. Everything's scarier with super hearing, don't you think? Even poorly written stories can be scary. Well, maybe not.
Anyway...
I saw something that scarred my soul. It was Big Shaq, wearing the costume normally reserved for The King. You know, Burger King's mascot. He was screaming, at the top of his lungs, "Skidiki-pap-pap, and a pu-pu-pudrrrr-boom. Skya, du-du-ku-ku-dun-dun. Poom, poom, you dun know."
Luckily, he was still 5000 kilometers away. You see, I have super eyesight. I forgot to mention it earlier. Everything's scarier with super eyesight, don't you think? Even poorly written stories can be scary. Well, maybe not.
Anyways...
I decided to see what he was up to, so I ran to him. You see, I have super speed. I forgot to mention it earlier. Everything's scarier with super speed, don't you think? Even poorly written stories can be scary. Well, maybe not.
BK Shaq, as he will now be known, was brandishing a rather large knife. Just then, BK Shaq started running towards me, trying to penetrate me with his rather large knife that he was brandishing. Unfortunately, he succeeded. I am now bleeding hyper realistic blood on my phone as I type this. I think there was something on the knife... some sort of drug. I have an irresistible urge to scream "Skidiki-pap-pap, and a pu-pu-pudrrrr-boom. Skya, du-du-ku-ku-dun-dun. Poom, poom, you dun know."
Let this serve as a warning.
If you see BK Shaq, avoid him.
Avoid...
him.