One Order of Doomsday With A Side of Fries
On a warm, summer morning in Neighbraska, an earth pony stallion named Woodrow sat on his front porch. His coat was caramel in color, and his cutie mark was that of a milkshake, hay fries, and a hay burger. He leaned and grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip of it before he let out a long sigh. From within his house, he could hear a loud, almost dog-like growl come from within the boarded up, barricaded residence.
“Another day in paradise,” he said as he looked out at the once quaint little town he called home, but which now burned. “Such is life during the apocalypse.” Woodrow stood up and stretched out. He walked over and grabbed a saddlebag and put it on. He placed his water bottle into it and walked down his front steps. “Alright, it’s time for another glorious day of insanity—and work.”
With a forced smile, Woodrow made his way into town. Around him, he could hear the anguished screams of ponies that begged for mercy, only to fall on deaf ears as horrific monsters from the depths of Tartarus rampaged across the land—along with a few looters who no longer gave a crap, and have somehow managed to avoid being maimed (or eaten) for months.
“All of this because some dumbass decided to kill Cerberus for sport,” Woodrow grumbled as he walked past several burning buildings—and numerous dead bodies. “I mean, it wasn't much different before they all came and started to tear up the town, but still.” With a frown, he rounded a corner and continued his walk, oblivious to the anarchy and mayhem going on around him.
That is, until he walked past a local convenience store. Mental note to self: buy bread on the way home from work.
A few moments later, Woodrow arrived outside a fast-food restaurant. He walked through the doors and made his way around the front counter. “And, as per the norm, I'm the only one here. How awesome,” he said to himself as he placed his saddlebag up against the wall behind the counter. He turned around and looked towards the windows.
Outside, he could see several winged demons—their skin a sickly yellow—attack a hardware store across the street with surprising coordination. They flanked a few ponies who defended the store. A few flew through the windows, and two barged through the front doors, at which they dragged them out before by their tails and killed them. All of this was much cooler when I saw it in those movies as a colt, he thought as the winged demons charged back into the store. Oh well, not like they'll come here.
With a sigh, Woodrow began to tap a hoof on the hoof on the counter until the front door blew open a few moments later. “You, pathetic mortal!” a voice boomed over the cries of a few more ponies had been dragged out of the hardware store.
“Welcome to Burger Palace,” Woodrow said in monotone. “What may I get for you today?”
“I, Lord Tirek, demand service of the highest quality!” Tirek said as he approached the counter. “I command the armies that you see outside, and you do not want to know what I'm like when I'm not served immediately!”
“Yes, yes,” Woodrow said. “What would you like?”
Tirek looked up at the menu and rubbed his chin. “Hmmm… I'll have a number four with extra cheese, and a large milkshake,” he said. “Also, no onions!”
Woodrow nodded again. “Will that be all?” he asked. “If so, your total is five bits.”
Tirek handed the bits to Woodrow, who took then and went to grab the food. A few moments later, he came back with a hag and handed it to the centaur. “Enjoy your meal,” Woodrow said as he opened the cash register—which was being held together by duct tape.
Tirek looked inside the bag and smiled. “Thank you, pitiful mortal,” he said. “At least I can count on you to not screw up my order.”
“We here at Burger Palace strive for the best fast-food service imaginable,” Woodrow droned, a look of boredom on his face.
“Oh, cheer up,” Tirek said. “At least I haven't killed you!”
“Yes, but you said that you wouldn't kill any restaurant owners and employees as you and your armies can't cook,” Woodrow said. “Though, I guess some of them didn't get the memo since I think I everypony who works here—with the exception of me—is dead.”
Tirek rolled his eyes. “I'll be sure to send out another memo,” he grumbled. “I'll also throw in a free coupon to here to make sure they read it.”
“Great, I've always wanted to serve an entire army,” Woodrow said sarcastic. “Speaking of your armies, they’ve kept me up all night. To make matters worse, a demon occupies my house. so I'm stuck on my porch because I barricaded my front door and windows,” he continued. “On top of that, the endless screaming and roaring gives a headache that could kill an Ursa Major.”
Tirek rolled his eyes. “Listen, you got my order right, unlike the other imbeciles who work at restaurants I go to,” he said. “I'll see if I can get that demon out of your house, okay? Maybe then, you can get some sleep.”
Woodrow yawned and shook his head before he asked, “Can't you just drive a claw through my head and let me know peace?”
“Then who's going to serve me!? That nimrod who works at the ice cream parlor up the street who thought I was a circus clown?” Tirek asked. “Besides, if you’re so eager to die, why didn't you let that demon that broke into your house kill you?”
Woodrow remained silent for a bit before he let out a sigh and said, “shit, I didn't think about that.”
Tirek let out a hearty laugh. “Now, good day!” he said. Tirek took a bite out of the hayburger with extra cheese and left the restaurant
I really hate my life, Woodrow thought as he waited for his next customer—which didn't take long, as a few moments later, the door opened, and one of the winged demons fluttered in.
“Geez, this place is worse than I remember,” he said as he landed in front of the counter—only to realize it was about a foot shorter than the counter. He flew up and floated in front of Woodrow. “A number seven with no cheese, five orders of hay fries, a water, and extra hot sauce,” it said. “Also, I want extra pickles with that double decker hayburger!”
“Sir, the number seven is the twelve piece hay nugget’s. The number five is the double decker hayburger,” Woodrow deadpanned. “Would you like to change that?”
“Uh, yeah,” the winged demon said. “My bad.”
Woodrow nodded. “Your total is seven bits.”
“Damn, your prices are outrageous,” the demon said as he handed Woodrow the bits.
“I intend on lowering them soon,” Woodrow said. “I just need to figure out if I'll ever need bits in the future.” With that, he walked away and grabbed a bag. He walked over to the condiments station and grabbed the hot sauce. He returned a few moments later and handed it to the demon.
“Wow, you work fast,” he said. “Or is this all precooked?”
“The latter,” Woodrow said. “You demons aren't picky, so I figured you wouldn't care if it ends up being cold or not.”
“Heh, you know us too well,” the demon said. “Truthfully, I like my food cold. I'm weird like that.”
“Then you might as well always eat here,” Woodrow said. “I usually cook this stuff for an hour or two after I close and save it for the next day.”
The demon popped a few hay fries into his mouth. “Anyways, bye!” the demon said as it chewed on the food. He grabbed the bag and flew out the door.
“I still can't believe they have manners when they aren't killing ponies,” Woodrow said to himself. He walked over to his saddlebag and pulled out his water bottle and took a sip of it.
“Hello, hello!” a female demon with a high pitched voice—along with numerous spikes on its back and green skin—said. “I have come to feast, and because I'm really lonely.”
Woodrow put his water bottle away and turned to face the demon. “I know that last one all too well, and I quite like it all things considered,” he said. “Anyways, how may I serve you?”
The spiked demon looked up at the menu and tapped her chin with a pointed finger. “I'll have a hayburger.”
Woodrow raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?” he asked quizzically. “Do you want anything special? Extra cheese? No pickles? Pencil shavings?”
The demon shook her head, her square head making her look like an armadillo fused with a flyswatter, and said, “I’m not very hungry, but I wanted someone to talk to who isn't too busy causing mayhem.”
“Oh,” Woodrow said. “Well, that'll be two bits.”
The demon handed Woodrow the bits. “I don't know why Tirek adopted your currency system. I preferred it when we used teeth.”
Woodrow shrugged and walked away. He grabbed a fresh bag and took out a hayburger from one of the other bags. “Here you go,” he said as he returned to the demon. “Enjoy.”
“Oh… I figured it'd take longer,” the demon said, a look of disappointment on her face. “Bummer.”
“Yeah… sorry,” Woodrow responded.
The demon looked around. “Can I eat here?” she asked sheepishly.
Woodrow chuckled. “There are booths here for a-” Before he could finish his sentence, the front doors were kicked open.
“YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL!” Tirek bellowed as he stomped up to the counter. He slammed a half eaten hayburger onto it and removed the top bun before he pointed to it. “I specifically asked for no onions and I found one onion on my hayburger! What is this meaning of this atrocity!?”
“I made a mistake,” Woodrow deadpanned. “Would you like a fresh one?”
“A fresh one!?” Tirek roared. “I will never eat here again for this inexcusable mistake!”
“Okay,” Woodrow replied. “Before you go, however, your opinion matters immensely to Burger Palace.” He took out a pencil and a piece of paper. “Would you mind filling out a survey?”
Tirek looked down at the paper and read over it.
Your opinion is valuable!
Please circle one or more of the following choices, and then tell us why you no longer wish to eat at the third lowest rated fast-food chain in Equestria!
Cockroach in meal
Food undercooked
Food was actually cardboard
Drink was deep-fried, and food was drenched in a soft drink.
Other (please specify below)
Tirek grumbled and circled ‘other’ before he wrote down his reasoning before he pushed it back to Woodrow, who looked down at it.
Wrong order! Such bullshit!
“I'll send this to our higher ups if they aren't currently busy being ashes,” Woodrow said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“So, I have to wait?” Tirek asked, disappointed.
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, bud.”
Tirek sighed and held out a hand. He snapped his fingers, which engulfed Woodrow in fire, and quickly reduced him to ashes.
“Uh, Tirek?” the spiked demon said as she held her hayburger midway to her mouth. “Why did you do that?”
Tirek turned his attention to the demon, whose mouth hung open. “He got my order wrong and expects me, the great Lord Tirek, to wait for a response from management!?” he yelled as he raised a hand up. “That is nonsense, and must be met with extreme punishment!”
“You realize that you'll never be able to eat here again since every other employee is dead, right?”
Tirek’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said as he slowly lowered his arms back down to his side's. “Oops.”
The spiked demon face palmed. “Tirek,” she said as she began to laugh. “You're an idiot.”
“I know,” Tirek replied somberly. “Oh well, back to microwavable dinners until we find another fast-food restaurant.”
