We took off for Missouri on Friday and made a pit-stop at a Wendy's along the way. Within seconds of entering the restaurant, we were taken hostage by a lovely woman who only had one thing to say.
We ain't got no big meat.
No big meat.
We only got Junior meat. No big meat.
I can't make you a Single or a Double or a Triple.
We ain't got no big meat.
I can make you a Junior, though.
We ain't got no big meat until my Supervisah get here at 8:30.
Um, okay, we'll have chicken.
Wendy's, the fast-food chain that boasts old-fashioned hamburgers on their sign, is out of big meat. They're not out of hamburger or hamburger patties. They're out of big meat and will not have any until the Superviser arrives.
What?!
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