Hubba Bubba got his order and looked at the fries. They gave him those curly fries. He hated curly fries. Looked too much like a worm dying on a hot sidewalk. He told the manager he wanted regular fries.

“Yes, sir. Sorry”.

The manager disappeared before Hubba Bubba had a chance to tell him that sorry wasn’t going to cut it. While waiting for his regular fries Hubba Bubba started munching on the curly fries. Not too bad. Didn’t taste anything like a worm dying on a hot sidewalk.

The manager came back and told Hubba Bubba to give him back the curly fries and he’d replace them with regular fries. This was a problem since Hubba Bubba had eaten most of them.

“I et some a them”, Hubba Bubba told the manager.

“Well, sir, Then I can’t exchange the order for you. Sorry”.

“Wahl, I didn’t et all a them. Let’s do that thing for what be left”.

“No, sorry, it doesn’t work that way.”

That got Hubba Bubba all worked up. He pulled out his gun and shot the manager. Actually, he shot the window or close to it. Then he screamed, “The South will rise agin’ ”. Then he sped off.

The local cop was just pulling in as Hubba Bubba was pulling out. They met. head-on. The cop was really burned by this. He was just going to lunch and some dimwit whacks his car. He was drooling about a Biggy Burger and fries. Regular fries, not those curly things. They reminded him of a caterpillar under a magnifying glass on a sunny day. Ugh.

“Hubba Bubba, I shoulda known. What in darnation’s the matter with you, whackin’ into me that way?”

“Uh, well-”.

“He shot at me! He shot at me! He shot at me!”, the manager was screaming.

“That true, Hubba Bubba?”.

“Nah, I were shootin’ at ‘im he’d be a mite dead”.

“He shot at me over fries! Fries!”, the manager continued.

“He give me curly un’s”, Hubba Bubba told the cop.

The manager was still screaming hysterically so the cop slapped him. Slapped him several times.

“I’m okay now. You can stop slapping me”.

“This is for serving curly fries”.