What can I say I’m a Bad Kid


There’s this chick that works at Jack in the Box by my house in Norco named Fatima.  She’s a Mexican girl, skinny and  hot in some crazy way that makes me want to insert cock.   I know that sounds a bit rude and the ladies are probably thinking what a P-I-G pig I am and all that sorta jazz.     Just because I want to be naked and inside this “Shift Leader” who works the graveyard shift at Jack in the Crack doesn’t make me a bad person.   I’m just being honest  so take it for what it is.

Anyways back to my original thought on this topic  okay?  So like a couple of nights ago right…in fact it was Sunday April 3rd.    I went to Jack in the Box because I was starving.  The time was about 3am. Cash on hand was limited to a single one hundred dollar bill. After picking up food I was planning on a quick stop at 7-11 for some smokes.

I already knew for a fact that 7-11 was not fond of breaking anything larger then a five dollar bill after 4 pm.  They run a million dollar a year retail store yet they continue to post signs warning that “This store does not carry more then $30 in cash” in an  attempt to  dissuade would be robbers.  7-11 is hoping that crooks are not going to want to risk a lengthy prison sentence for  a roll of quarters and a few limp $1 bills.   7-11 has their heads up their collective asses on this one I say.  First of all nobody believes that bullshit about the store only having $30 bucks on hand.  That’s a crock of shit and everyone knows it.  If someone did rob them and found only $30, wouldn’t that just piss an armed robber off to the point of endangering the hapless clerk even more?


I digress.  Sorry.

Back to Jack in the Box:

Like I said I went by Jack in the Box, ordered the All American Combo with Coke.  My order was taken by Fatima.  Seeing her in that sexy manager outfit,  all black, I admit checking out her ass as we shot the shit while she was bent over filling up my Coke.  I’m probably dreaming but it sure seemed that Fatima was extra attentive to me whenever I saw her.  The dream turns decidedly “wet” as I imagine rubbing “special sauce” all over her naked body

Shit I should take that back I forgot she might read this shit someday and she might not understand that I’m only fucking around.  In fact, I can think of  a few other people who I would suggest reading this story with a grain of salt if you know what I mean!!

She told me the total ($4.56 or something) and I pulled out my Ben Franklin and handed it to her.  Even though Jack in the Box has their own set of signs spinning shit regarding  the lack of more then  $50 cash after something like 2pm in the afternoon, I was sure that I was operating under a different set of rules. Fatima started walking to the different registers searching for enough change to pay me the $95 I have coming.  I was pretty surprised when she walked back to the drive thru window and said, “Sorry, I can’t break it, I only have $70 total”.

At that point my food was ready to hand over.  I was hungry.  So I said to her in a groveling sorta whiny voice, “Well what can I do then cuz I need my food!”.  She shocked me big time by saying I could just pay for it later.  That generous offer really got my mind racing . Visions of boobies  danced through my head. Hell yea.  I quickly agreed,  thanked her and proceeded to quickly drive to 7-11 about 100 yards away.  There was no simple way to get there because of the curb that surrounded 7-11 .  I had to basically drive 1000 yards, and it was late as shit.  No biggie until I was speeding around the left side of the place and nearly drove into a couple of officers from the Corona Police Department who were parked up and chatting.

I did a mental inventory of my car and my person, and my state of mind, decided that I had nothing to worry about, and continued confidently  without really slowing down right by them and turned into an empty parking space in front of the store.  I got out of the car, carefully walking  like a sober man, (which I was actually).  I didn’t turn my head to see if they were watching me as I’m not on probation or parole and I don’t really  have much to hide from the cops.

The next huge challenge of the early morning was somehow making it alright with the crazy, Punjabi, serial murderer that worked the graveyard at 7-11. I needed to get out of that store with a pack of smokes, some chocolate milk and Hostess Chocolate Donuts, with the change from the $100 dollar bill and probably within a normal time limit so the Corona’s finest, out there shooting the shit didn’t get suspicious and  start thinking that I was robbing the place of its $30 dollars in cash they had.  This may sound easy to you as you are reading this but you don’t know this dude at 7-11.  My old girlfriend  April, said he  was for sure the Indian version of Jeffery Dahmer and I had to agree with her. He has theses weird eyes that seem to mentally undress you as you walk into store.  Mentally undress not only your clothes…which maybe wouldn’t be that bad if the price was right hahaha, but mentally undress your skin from flesh and flesh from bones?  That’s where I draw the line.

I’ve skateboarded to 7-11  tons of times at night super late wanting a smoke, having no money and hanging out in front waiting for someone to go in the store and come out with a pack of Marlboro lights so I could sheepishly hit them up.  “Hey do you have an EXTRA smoke?” I’d say.  I’d be all sweaty and haphazardly dressed, but somehow people never found it creepy that I was sitting out in front of 7-11 in Norco, at 3am, with my skateboard and sweat dripping down my apparently 30 year old face, asking them for cigarettes.  In fact, chicks often would stop and have a little conversation with me.  Ha ha ha the power of beauty still works ha ha ha.  Or maybe I’m kidding myself and its just that I have no shame and don’t notice the fake smiles on these peoples faces as they stop, open their packs of smokes and hand me one.  Who knows.  Anyways, I’ve always been a little creeped out myself standing there because 7-11 Serial Murderer man would be looking at me the whole time behind his bushier then shit eyebrows and cold, calculating, “I want to eat your left ass cheek followed by your arm” dark, brown, Punjabi eyes.  I’m never really that polite to the dude either because he really makes me feel uncomfortable.  You can’t talk to him at all.  He doesn’t get politeness, he doesn’t know English I don’t think.  He just stares at you with those serial killer eyes.

So anyways, I had my work cut out for me.  What I ended up doing to combat the problem was picking out a bunch of individual items that he would have to ring up one by one and then if he wanted to deny me on the hundred dollar bill he would have to sit there and un ring them up one by one and put them all back.  So I grabbed chocolate milk, some chocolate Hostess donuts, some 20 cent candies and two packs of smokes.  It came out to like $14.  Then I whipped out the hundred and right away shit was going down!  He pointed to the “This Store Carries only $30 after 2pm” sign, shook his head in disgust, hemmed and hawed, asked me if I had a credit card to use and even went so far as to take off his belt, pull down his pants and start whipping himself on his ass while chanting, “Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar” while his eyes rolled to the back of his head and foam started coming out of his mouth.

I’d seen it all before.  These tactics weren’t working on a hustlah like me.  He quickly realized that I wasn’t quaking in fear, vomiting profusely or pissing all over the place so he quit with the dramatics, made the “Shhhh” signal by cupping his hand into a fist except for his long, dirty index finger, with the black nail polish which he put to his lips.  He reached over to his right, opened this brown binder thing and pulled out a massive stack of cash, like literally $500 bucks worth of 1’s, 5’s, 10’s and 20’s.  He gave me a sheepish grin, counted out my $86 bucks in change and hustled me out of the store.  That was on Sunday night, actually Monday morning.

I sauntered by the cops again, who were still there.  They both turned their heads when I passed them but they realized that I was too much to handle and that they could just as easily sit there eating their fucking donuts and shooting the shit until their shift was over so they both nodded back to me after I respectfully nodded their way.  I ended up going back home for a little while and then headed to Soboba Casino at like 5 in the morning.  I won’t get into all of that shit right now because it’s not the point of this particular story.  Actually what was the point of this particular story?  Oh yeah, Fatima from Jack in the Box.  So to finish it up, I had like $16 bucks Stephanie Kelly gave me for gas after working yesterday which of course isn’t really enough to take to the casino after you factor in the horrendous price of goddamn gas these days.  I still owed the $4 bucks to Fatima at Jack in the Box right. So I decided to be like this amazing human being, and go pay it back, again at like 3 in the morning last night.  At least I thought my intentions were good but I realized after that I’m just a scum bag like everybody else.  Why? Well, I went through the drive through and ordered a Mini Funnel Cake which are the shit if they don’t over cook them.  You just spread some of that strawberry jam Jack in the Box is famous for  on them and they are really quite a tasty and scrumptious little snack item.  My intention was to get the funnel cake, slide right up to the drive through window and play the hero role with sexy little Fatima.  I imagined she would ooh and aaah over me being such an honest and caring little fella by paying her back and that we would get to chatting and …..I don’t know …..maybe she would wanna come over after work at 6 a.m. for a little breakfast sandwich if you know what I mean.  Ha hahaa.  Well you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men….

Imagine my horror and disgust when I got to the drive through window and some fat ass preppy looking Mexican GUY opened the window and told me it was $1.08 for the fucking funnel cake.  I was like,  “Fuck my life!”.  I asked his sweaty looking, preppy looking, greasy looking ass if Fatima was working.  He looked at me sorta strange like and said, “Fatima?  No she’s not working.” Fine whatever.  And here’s the reason I’m still filled with that feeling of “I’m a dick”.  I could have paid off my little bill very easily whether Fatima was there or not.  She told in her sexy Spanish accent that she was leaving a note with a copy of the receipt for whoever was working so I would have no problem having my balance cleared.

So I ask you faithful reader….did I voluntarily mention to Mr. Fat Preppy Boy that I needed to pay back a food front from the other night and hand over the $4 bucks?  I think we both know the answer to that one right?  Fuck no I didn’t.  Ha ha ha fuck that!  I’ll wait for another time when Sexy Fatima IS working and I’ll see if I can still parlay the whole situation into some kind of dirty Jack in the Box fantasy sex or something.

Maybe I’ll just pay it back regardless of who is working next time I go.  The battle inside my head between the Angel on my right shoulder and Satan on my left continues to rage on.  I’ll have to let everyone know who wins.  I’m going to try very hard to be a good kid but sometimes I have problems with that.  Until next time everyone.  Take care of yourselves and each other.

Satanthony Mandich, Urban Legend and Shot Caller

5 thoughts on “What can I say I’m a Bad Kid

  1. Grain of salt, yes I think its funny. Especially because I think I know which one you mean and you would scare the curly fries out of her.

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