Leaving considerable skid marks as you pulled into the parking lot. Your mouth was frothing as you almost couldn't contain yourself. You already had your dream job. And with your newfound powers... Heaven didn't seem so far off anymore. Unlocking the front door, you opened it to be greeted by a potent punch of countless massive, unwashed booties which had effectively burrowed their powerful booty stank deep into the very fabrics of the seat cushions. The fact that the stench was so powerful even 10 hours after closing time, was impressive.
As you stepped past the doors, you looked to your left, and there was the aforementioned hanger, stocked full with exhausted, overworked thongs which your abominable customers used to squirt their juices into.
You couldn't help by envy the inanimate lingerie. Their only purpose in life was to sit and wait for some behemoth of a booty to absolutely consume them and use them as a shart cushion.
You let out a long sigh of resentment as you leaned into the closest thong, which had a stupidly obvious brown splotch mark at the back. As you'd inhale and snort the heavenly scent. Shivering with joy, you'd proceed into your new personal heaven.
Rows upon rows of discolored, malformed booths and seats cluttlered the spaceous room. The restaurant was always in full gear, and it clearly showed. It wasn't a secret that even with loaner thongs, some customers didn't mind taking a seat with nothing covering their rears, with the obvious intent of not ruining their own clothes from the aftermath of whatever food they inhaled.
To your left was the bathroom, and truthfully, even with your abnormal love for taco stenches, you could never really stomach going in there. It was the one and only bathroom in the entire restaurant, though it was more like an indoor port-o-potty, since your boss figured it'd be more effecient than calling a plumber due to clogging every thirty minutes.
Then there was the unofficial "VIP Seat". In the corner next to the cashier counter. For some, unexplained reason, that's the seat where the most foul, disgusting consumers decided to sit. The reasoning behind it wasn't clear. But eventually, your boss added a metal tray which she placed beneath the seat. To catch any... "Excessive Spillings."
Looking at the watch, you realized it was just 5 minutes left until your boss would arrive to make the final preperations before opening in time for breakfast rush hour. You had to make a quick decision.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.17 seconds at 8:01am on Nov 24, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author