Samuel was working the drive-in at McDonald’s when Frankenstein’s monster drove up in a Hummer.
“Dude,” said Samuel. “Wicked neck bolts, man.”
“Raaaaurgh!” said Frankenstein’s monster.
“Hey, no prob,” said Samuel. “We all have days like that.” He put on his customer face, all raised eyebrows and sincerity. “May I take your order?”
“RAAAAurgh!” said Frankenstein’s monster.
“One number two with supersized fries, coming right up,” said Samuel. He punched some buttons on the greasy keyboard in front of him. “God, I wish my shift was up.”
“Raaaurgh! RAAAurgh!” said Frankenstein’s monster.
Samuel turned back to the window. “Hey man, I didn’t choose to be here. I just need some goddamn spending money. Never thought I’d end up hawking pseudo-food and doing my small part to perpetuate the evils of corporate America. But what can you do? Just gotta take what you’re dealt and make the best of it.” He eyed Frankenstein’s monster’s pallid demeanor and ragged stitching. “Course some of us get a worse deal than others, but judging by your wheels you’re doing alright.”
“RAAAAURGH!” said Frankenstein’s monster, pounding on the steering wheel.
“Dude, I am right there with you! All the hopeless consumption we engage in is just a distraction from what really matters, and here you and me are, buying straight into it. But you know, you have to eat and you have to get from place to place, so why not do it in style? Sometimes you just have to say to hell with it all, and live it up while you can. You’re destroying the environment and I’m working for the quintessential exploitative corporation, but at least in fifty years when we’ve consumed all our natural resources and our society is crumbling around us we’ll be able to look back and say, ‘Well, at least I had fun.'”
Samuel grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t get many opportunities to really talk to people on the job, though, you know? Most people don’t like to think critically about the implications of their lifestyle. They just drive up and want an automaton to hand them food.” Samuel stiffened his arms and moved them jerkily back and forth. “Would. You. Like. Fries. With. That. I mean, I guess we’re all what society has made us, but still.” He paused and glanced at Frankenstein’s monster’s neckbolts and shrugged. “You more than most.”
A coworker walked up behind Samuel. “Hey, order’s up.”
Samuel grabbed the paper bag, stuffed some ketchup packets inside, and handed it out the window to Frankenstein’s monster. “That’ll be $7.59.” He grabbed the proffered bill, pressed a few more greasy buttons, and handed the change back. “And hey, thanks for letting me unload on you, you know? It’s nice to connect with people sometimes, and damned hard to do it working here.”
“RAAAAAAURGH!” said Frankenstein’s monster, and he peeled out of the drive-through, leaving Samuel coughing in his exhaust.
“What a jackass,” growled the wolfman in the backseat of the Hummer. “He totally ignored you when you ordered me a number seven. And you asked for it like five times.”
“Raaaurgh,” said Frankenstein’s monster sadly.
“Yeah, I know it,” said the wolfman. “Kids these days are so oblivious.”