A certain co-worker of ours, who shall remain nameless, (cough cough Evan) decided to grace us with an incredibly imaginative story yesterday. The tale revolved around his encounter with a group of outrageously rude French Fries. Yes, you heard that correctly. Rude French Fries. Now, I must admit, I was eagerly waiting for him to declare that these fries “crinkle cut in line,” and that’s why they were so rude. (Get the throwback to a long ago GX94 Rib Tickler?) But alas, he missed the opportunity.
However, fate has a funny way of playing its hand, as I discovered this morning the very French Fry he had written about. And let me tell you, it was indeed as rude as he claimed. How do I know this, you ask? Well, my dear friends, it turns out that our beloved storyteller had forgotten to mention that he left this poor, lonely fry on the floor of our studio. Can you imagine the audacity? T o abandon a fellow French Fry in such a manner is simply unforgivable. Now, one might wonder how I deduced that this particular fry was the one he had encountered, and was in fact his? (He’s the only one who brings in fast food, ssshhhhhh). That lone French Fry must have felt incredibly sad lying there on our studio floor.
Being the kind-hearted soul that I am, I couldn’t bear to see this fry suffer any longer. So, Evan, if you’re reading this, fear not! I have taken it upon myself to reunite you with your missing fry. I carefully placed it in your bunk, where it will await your return. Consider it a small act of kindness from me to you. So, there you have it, folks. The tale of the rude French Fry and its unexpected journey from the studio floor to Evan’s bunk. You’re welcome, Evan. – Tonya Cherry –
