What does it take to get some $%&@!# mustard around here?!?


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Oceania » New Zealand » North Island » Palmerston North
February 10th 2007
Published: February 20th 2007
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As Gene and I made our way to our hotel in the small town of Palmerston North, Gene muttered, “Had I known, I would have driven straight through this place.”

As we checked in to our hotel, Gene told the woman at the front desk that there must have been an error as we had only booked the room for one night, not two as the confirmation sheet had indicated. The lady, however, reassured us that reservations were made in advance for two nights. Still unconvinced that he would have booked us two nights in some Podunk town, Gene pulled out his laptop, loaded the computer and consulted his calendar. Lucky us. We were stuck in Palmerston North for two nights.

Palmerston North is a university town. However, outside of the university, there is nothing much to do but peruse the few blocks of shops, eat, drink, and go to the cinema. Had it not been nearing 5 o’clock on Saturday, we would have been able to kill some time browsing the stores. However, in small towns like Palmerston North, it seems that everything shuts down early. On Sunday, we’d be lucky if anything was even open.

We decided to go to the show. The problem was, we had only 45 minutes before the next movie started and we still needed to grab a bite to eat. There we were, scurrying up the street of the square, eyeing the various food establishments still open for dinner. As usual, Chinese and Thai and a few cafés. Gene was determined to keep walking. Well, that would have been all nice and dandy had we not been down to 30 minutes before the next show, blocks away from the cinema, and still had not settled on anything to eat. Somehow, in our efforts to find something decent to eat, we landed at the Golden Arches.

Gene and I thought it efficient that there were McDonald’s employees taking orders on their electronic gadgets from the customers still waiting in line.

Gene ordered first. “I’ll have a No. 6 with no mayo and I’d like mustard on my sandwich.”

The girl immediately grew flustered. “You have to order your drink first.”

“I’ll take a Sprite.”

“Okay…now…what did you want???”

“A No. 6, no mayo, with mustard.”

I followed with my order, drink first. “I’ll have a No. 2 with a Sprite, pickle only.” The girl seemed to grow irritated. Gene and I grinned at one another as she flashed another employee an annoyed look across the counter. We laughed, realizing that we had assumed the title of dumb foreigners.

As we sat down, we immediately checked our sandwiches to make sure that they were made as ordered. Gene lifted the top bun of his sandwich to find no more than three pin drops of mustard on his chicken. “God damnit! So much for my mustard!?!” He stood up and headed toward the counter as I savored my salty McDonald’s French fries.

Storming back to the booth in a rage, steam blowing from his ears, “You’ll @$#%!&(MISSING)*! love this! I told the girl that there wasn’t any mustard on my sandwich. First, she charges me $0.50 for a packet of mustard. When I realized that it was honey mustard, I told her that it wasn’t what I wanted and politely asked if I could have my money back to which she stared me blankly in the eyes and shook her head in the negative.”

“Well, where’s the mustard?”

“I threw it right in the garbage! “I just don’t get it. What does it take to get some $%!&(MISSING)@!# mustard around here?!?”

Happily eating my burger, I tried not to contribute to the hype. “I’m sorry, babe.”

Storming off again from the booth, Gene returned with his packet of mustard and a sly grin on his face.

“Where did you get that from?”

“The garbage can. I’ll show these bastards.”

Concerned that my dinner might be interrupted, “Can your plot for revenge at least wait until I’m done eating???”

“That’s fine. These bastards are gonna know whose boss when I’m through.”

Savoring my last mouthful of French fries, “Okay, I’m through.”

Like a two-year-old in the middle of a temper tantrum, Gene ripped opened his packet of mustard and covertly squeezed it onto his seat. Satisfied with himself, he threw the empty packet onto his tray and stomped out of the restaurant. Paranoid that we would be chased down by angry teenage employees, I Fred Flinstoned it straight outta there


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20th February 2007

Wankers
What a pair of wankers!!
21st February 2007

mustard
OMG! I am laughing so hard I'm crying. Fifty-cents for a package of mustard too ******* funny...I'll mail some to you for free. =) Love and miss you two goofs. xoxoxo

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