Popeyes, Christmas Eve 2007
- Mom: Blake, Dana has made a really delicious looking meal.
- Dana: Yeah Blake, you're more than welcome to have some...
- Me: No, I don't really do salads, not as a meal anyway. I haven't had Popeyes in a while.
- Mom: Alright, let me get my coat.
- That is only how this little tale began, but little did I know, this was going to be the worst December 24 ever!
- Cashier: Yes sir, what would you like?
- Me: Hm... A 3-piece, with fries please!
- It was at that moment the cook in the back (yes, the kitchen area was wide open for viewing) gave me the most evil stare I have ever received.
- Cashier: Here you go sir.
- Me: Thank you.
- I went back to my sister's house, ate my meal, and then we decided to go to Christmas Eve mass. About halfway into it, I started to get perhaps the most evil bubbling I have ever dealt with.
- Dana: What's wrong?
- Me: I... Need... To leave!
- I rushed out, and started to wait in the car. Every form of movement hurt.
- Dad: Alright Blake, here's some Tums, and we'll see how you're doing to the morning.
- Me: Okay. Good night. God bless us, everyone!
- It was between the times of 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. that I awoke.
- Me: Mmm. Hmm. Ahh. Yay... It's Christmas... Santa-- BLLLAAARRRAAAHHH!
- Because of what had just obviously happened, I honestly did not feel like talking, but I tried. Calling for Mom, Dad, and Dana.
- Me: ... Ma... Da... Dan... Ma... Da... F*c...
- Mom: Blake, what is all this-- Ah! Come on!
- Dad: Did someone-- (looks in the room, turns around, walks away)
- Dana: ...
- Me: ...Sh*t...
- I never ate Popeyes chicken since.