So, the other day (well it was more like a month ago, but don’t we all say “the other day” when it normally happened up to a year ago?), I came home from school and did my normal routine, then I went over to my grandma’s because she asked me to come over for a bit. So of course I did. She complained about how depressing sitting in the house all day was and she asked me if I wanted to get something to eat. I was starving, so I accepted. I drove us to Commerce and we decided on Chick-Fil-A; mostly because she loved their peppermint milkshakes and had to have one, and she got three every time she went past Commerce so she was addicted.

And her reasoning was: “they are for a limited time so I want to get as many as I can before they stop making them.”

Ummhmm, sure…

We get to Chick-Fil-A, park, go inside then order. There were literally two tables open in the whole restaurant because they were so busy, so we opted for one of those two tables that were next to the inside-yet-not-outside playground. There was a massive amount of kids playing on the playground, as well as running around the restaurant as diners had that I-don’t-know-whose-kids-those-are-but-you-need-to-get-them-under-control stare on their faces. So I’m enjoying my dinner as my grandma is enjoying her second peppermint milkshake, meanwhile, all these kids are running around crazily and driving me insane (I can’t stand obnoxious children anyway and think that if parents can’t keep them under control, they should just not take them out in public).

I have an extremely plausible explanation to not like children: I have a half sister that is basically the devil–I know everyone says this about their siblings–but if I was Jesus (hypothetically speaking), she would be the Anti-Christ. I honestly think that the youngest sibling is sent into the world to destroy their older siblings, and that the older siblings are allowed to have homicidal thoughts (kidding) toward said youngest sibling.

Anyway, after much not needed ranting, hopefully I can get on to the topic at hand which I started this post in the first place….

Okay, here goes:

While we were trying to block out the screaming children and crying babies (there’s a difference), plus the hustle and bustling of the diners, something hilariously awful started to happen. A fuss broke out…now I know what you’re thinking: some of the kids broke out into a fight.

Yes and no; it started out as a fuss between a white child and a black (is that racist to say? Mind you, I’m not the least bit racist). Okay, so I’m just gonna refer to them as chocolate and vanilla (which sounds even more racist). Scratch that. Reese’s cup and Zero bar are our new nicknames for these children.

So Zero bar comes in from the playground complaining to her mom (referring to her as KitKat) that Reese’s cup hit her on the little play thingy outside. Well Reese’s cup told his mom (referring to her as a reversed Oreo…FORESHADOWING!) that Zero bar did the same thing to him. Both mothers were at tables parallel to each other, and perpendicular to ours. They both told their children to just go back and play. As soon as that door closed behind those children, I swear Lucifer walked into that Chick-Fil-A, or the camera crew from Jerry Springer; however, the latter seems more plausible. The mothers both started bickering, and Zero’s mom was how you say…chocolate on the inside and vanilla on the outside; so basically a reversed Oreo.


Well normally, “Oreo’s” get along with “Kit Kat’s” in the real world since they’re all “candy bars” right?

You bet your Hershey’s-Kisses-donk NO!

It became a word brawl. They bickered back and forth like it was a school yard, yet neither one ever got out of their seats. It was astonishing to see to adult women acting like they were in a high school parking lot about to duke it out (and their children were mere feet away!). They were shouting threats at each other with a pause in between like they were thinking of a sweet comeback. The one I remember the most was when KitKat said “well if I wasn’t pregnant, I would get up and hand your a$$ to you in front of your kids!”

It was on!
And that’s when I was like OH NO YOU DI-INT! (in my head of course, I wasn’t about to get in the middle of that.)

That was the point where everyone in the entire restaurant (sans any managers or employees) got quiet and started staring. Nobody was getting a manager or another employee or anything, it was definitely like high school; how whenever there was a fight, you wanted to see it and didn’t want a teacher to find out because you knew they would break it up and then said fight would never occur. And *sadness* would ensue, plus many “aww man’s” and other phrases of course.

After about a full minute of intense arguing, an employee/manager RAN over full speed like he was about to jump in front of a bullet and save some damsel in distress. Which that “damsel” probably would have been reverse Oreo, and he wouldn’t be dodging a bullet; it’d be a giant KitKat fist. So he asked these rhetorical questions like: “do I need to call the cops?” and other nonsense, then that was the end of it.

Everyone went about their business and I got a vanilla milkshake (zing!) and we left.