Dough Boy stormed all the way down the street into the local used car lot. Grabbing a set of keys, he drove a car all the way to the Fast Food capital of America, (--town omitted for security reasons to the FFI--). After all, used cars are old, so no one cares if they get stolen. Do you read about car thefts that occurred with some old, grandma car at a used car lot? No. They are with some brand new car at a brand new car lot. And I'm starting to get mad at these omitting people. Man, I just wanna (--This text has been omitted in a very cheesy manner. No one defies us--).

     Anyway, I'll get to that later. Dough Boy drove straight up to the one and only, The Fast Food Industry Headquarters. If it could be described in two words, they'd be big square. The entire building was one giant, metal cube. At least on the outside. On the inside was (--text omitted by the author's request and/or permission--). And if they omit that, I won't mind, because I'd probably be assassinated for revealing their HQ to everyone. But that's the only time!

     Anyway (I'm saying that often. Cool!), Dough Boy stormed in to the front office and grabbed  the-aforementioned-Will's shirt.

     "Um, why did you grab the back of my shirt?"

     "Oh, sorry." Correcting his mistake, Dough Boy grasped Aforementioned-Will's shirt on its front side. "I DEMAND TO SEE YOUR CEO!!! THIS IS ABSOLUTELY OUTRAGEOUS WHAT YOU GUYS ARE DOING!!"

     "Um, I can't let you see him."

     Dough Boy grew more infuriated. "WHY NOT? I'M REALLY PERCENT SIGN, AMPERSAND, ASTERISK, POUND SIGN-ED OFF THIS TIME!!! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TALKING IN ALL CAPS???"

     "That's why I can't let you see him."

     "OH. HOLD ON ONE SECOND." Dough Boy pressed the caps lock key on his watch, then turned to Aforementioned-Will. "I need to see your CEO."

     Aforementioned-Will pointed to the fourth door on the right. "His office is the one with the dark, evil, foreboding shadow covering the door and the surrounding area."

     "Ok. Thank you Will."

     Dough Boy immediately found the door. This wasn't hard for a brilliant mind, such as his: first, he remembered Aforementioned-Will had pointed to the fourth door on the right. He then went to the right side of the hallway, and walked down it, counting the doors as he went. He then stopped at the fourth door when he counted it. It's very simple when you break the process down.

     Dough Boy entered the door and walked to the end of the short hallway it led to. He couldn't see the next door very well; it was covered in an eerie shadow. He nevertheless entered it, confident he'd find the CEO.

     He was bathed in darkness before he even opened the door. Actually, he never opened the door. It just seemed to disappear when he tried to walk in. It would be very weird to anyone who wasn't evil. Luckily, Dough Boy was. Otherwise, who'd fill in the role of The Dancing Rhubarb's nemesis? That is a very interesting question.

     Anyway (there it is again), Dough Boy walked in to have a few mean words with the CEO of the FFI. Well, if you call talking to a seemingly disembodied voice exchanging words, that's what Dough Boy was doing. You see, the CEO of The Fast Food Industry has never been identified. Everywhere in his general vicinity is swathed with darkness from the intense evil of his personal being, so no one has gotten a good look, but he is still a respected being. If he wasn't, there wouldn't be so many fast food joints that are so jammed together you could pass notes between restaurant windows.

     So anyway (and again, there it is. I'm being too repetitive), Dough Boy wanted to share a few words with the CEO, like "stop" and "harassing" and "me" and "now", in a very loud tone. The CEO wasn't very pleased with Dough Boy's reaction.

     "Man, can't you take a joke?"

     "No, I can NOT take a joke. Otherwise, I wouldn't BE here, WOULD I?"

     "Ok, you know what, we've been rivals since before even the first TDR story, right?"

     "Yes. And I bet the author told you to say that to loosely promote his stories, didn't he?"

     "I bet the author told you that response."

     "Yes, he did."

     "Anyway, how 'bout we settle this on a little wager?"

     Dough Boy got mad again. "Every time you 'wager' on something, you always go back when it doesn't work out for you."

     "This time, I won't. I promise."

     "Yeah, whatever. What wager?"

     "How about I show you how powerful The Fast Food Industry really is. How 'bout I get rid of the thorn in your side."

     "You kill yourself AND the industry?!? I'll take that wager!"

     "No, not THAT thorn, the other one. The one who recently put you in jail."

     Dough Boy thought for a while, then randomly guessed. "The Dancing Rhubarb?"

     "Yeeees, that dancing thing or whatever. You're supposed to be his arch-nemesis."

     "Oh yeah, that rhubarb. I remember now. You'd get rid of him?"

     "Yes. And if I do, that means that you must accept that we are more powerful than you, and we'll leave each other alone."

     Dough Boy thought for a longer while. "Ok, sure. It kinda took me a while to take the cue that I absolutely hate The Dancing Rhubarb, and once that came along, the decision was easy. Ok."

     "Splendid! Run along now. You'll be hearing about our accomplishment on the news or something."

     "Yeah right. You just wait. You'll find out, just like I did. YOU'LL SEE. Oops, sorry; hit the caps button on my watch."

     Dough Boy walked out without considering that he hadn't agreed on any upsides to the wager if he won. He didn't care. He wanted The Dancing Rhubarb out of his way. And now he'd just convinced the entire Fast Food Industry to do it for him.

     Even though he had serious doubts they could.

 

On to Chapter 5