Yesterday, I made a mistake that I lived to regret. I was hungry, and decided to eat at Culver’s. Yes, yes, I’m sure now some of you might actually enjoy Culver’s, but I’m here to bust down the walls of lies and deceit and bring you some hard-hitting facts. Please make sure you are in a comfortable chair, because your brain might very well fight it out in a Tag-Team-Cage-Match with Brain and Liver vs. Stomach and Spleen.
First, I will map out my experience in the restaurant. I walked inside, which cause me to walk over a large manhole with the words, “Grease Interceptor,” upon it. Now, far be it for me, of all people, to assume what this was, but I did anyway and I bet I’m right. But that will come later, what’s important now is the story. As I entered the restaurant (as it prefers to be called; I prefer soulless K-Mart Eatery), I noticed something. Everything, from the pleather (leather for hobos) covering the rock hard cushion seats to the employees’ pale lifeless faces, seemed to shine as if it was made of plastic. I immediately took a sample of the seats, the carpet, and the “wooden” doors for later analysis, because I am a scientist. I tried to get an employee when my order was taken, but they’re pretty fast for soulless zombies. Despite that I was jabbing at their face with a scalpel, the employee behind the counter still took my order. He probably didn’t fear me, because of his lack of soul. I picked up his “no-soul-age” from my spiffy Soul-O-Meter, which I keep handy in case of hidden lawyers, salesmen, or the IRS because they know I have found the Universe’s Supply of Gold. So now I had three objectives. A) Steal a piece of employee tissue, B) find out what was taking the souls, and C) order my food.
I could tell that he had no soul, because he looked like Spock, talked in a square word bubble, and I had my Soul-O-Meter. Also the Soul-O-Meter picked up a square pulse rate, which I learned from Cyborg Justice means they must either be a robot or have no soul. By the way, that’s a saber I use for stuff, like taking samples of things. Why? Because it’s magic! That’s right, magic! And yes, I really do look like Johnny Depp, funny huh? The conversation went on like this:
Spock: MAY I TAKE YOUR ORDER?
Willbo: Yes, what’s good here?
Spock: DOES NOT COMPUTE.
Willbo: What? *jokingly* Not have your personality chip in yet?
Spock: AFFIRMATIVE.
-AKWARD SILENCE- CUE TUMBLEWEED
Tumbleweed: Hey. Willbo! How’s the website?
Willbo: Oh, you know, pretty good.
Tumbleweed: Awesome! I have to go now, meeting Gampa for lunch.
Willbo: Later. Okay, I’ll have a…Butter Burger Cheese? Is that like a Cheeseburger?
Spock: BUTTER BURGER CHEESE: WHEAT-GRAIN BUN, MEAT-SUPPLEMENT, SOLID PASTEURIZED DAIRY TOPPING SUPPLEMENT, TWO PICKEL PIECES, STANDARD KETCHUP DISTRIBUTION, STANDARD MUSTARD DISTRIBUTION, END DESCRIPTION.
Willbo: Uh, yeah, I guess I’ll have one of those.
SPOCK: WOULD YOU LIKE A BASKET ADDITION EQUIPPED WITH YOUR BUTTER BURGER CHEESE?
Willbo: I’ll have a medium drink with it, no fries.
Spock: AFFIRMATIVE: CALCULATING TOTAL, PLEASE WAIT.
Willbo: Yeah, so what is a Butter Burger anyway?
Spock: IT IS A BURGER WITH BUTTER SUPPLEMENT IN ADDITION TO THE WHEAT-GRAIN BUN.
Willbo: What? There’s more ketchup on it than butter.
Spock: AFFIRMATIVE.
Willbo: So, pardon my French, but why the bonjour do you call it a butter burger if butter is the least present topping? Why not a Ketchup Burger? Or an atom burger? It’s made of atoms.
Spock: YOUR FRENCH REFERENCE TO WORDS THAT ARE NOT ACCEPTED AS SOCIAL DIALECT IS SUCH AN OLD JOKE IT IS DEFINED AS AN ANTIQUE.
Willbo: Try this on for size, then. You’re a goddamn cunt-mouthed lubed-cum asshole.
Spock: TOTAL CALCULATED.
Willbo: All right, like 4 bucks right?
Spock: NEGATIVE. TOTAL ACCUMULATED AS 87 AMERICAN CURRENCY OF DOLLARS AND 32 CENTS.
Willbo: Wait, 87 dollars?
Spock: AND 32 AMERICAN CENTS. NOW LISTING POSSIBLE WAYS OF PAYMENT-
Willbo: Wait one fucking minute. Why does your damn food cost 87 dollars? What, is it made of gold?
Spock: INFORMATION BREACH. SHUTTING DOWN.
After that he fell over and exploded, leaving no tissue to sample. I sat down, since they were bringing my burger out anyway because they thought I had paid (that’s right, you sit down in their horrible torture devices known as chairs while they bring you the food). I waited for 13 hours, 49 minutes, and 22 seconds. That was before I left, I never even got my food. I came back 3 years later, and it was just done. Some freaky person with a smile that was surgically altered gave me the so-called “burger”, and lo and behold, it fucking sucked. I got back at Culver’s by beating up an old lady who said she loved Culver’s, but that’s not the real concern. The concern is this: Culver’s costs way too much to match the quality of their shitty food. As I was leaving to go to Arby’s (which also costs a lot, but their food is worth it), I literally saw Bill Gates and Monopoly’s Rich Uncle Pennybags weeping because they had to declare bankruptcy, just because they ate at Culver’s once. I was now thoroughly disturbed, hungry, and horny. So I went home and jacked off.
I thought long and hard (huh huh huh, hard) about Pennybags and Gates. Since Microsoft is evil, and are only sharing their software with Macintosh because the government made them but their deal with Dell is making it possible to bypass the regulations set by them by making “Dell” software, and Monopoly has pissed me off millions of times because I’m a poor loser and everyone in the Universe is a snobby faced bastard when they win, I didn’t really feel sorry for either of these guys. But I did think, ”Hm, Culver’s ‘Butter Burgers’ are made of gold, but that would only make them cost 49 dollars...where’s that extra 38 dollars coming from?” I think in Italics, by the way, that’s important. Well, I put my collected samples into my giant batman computer, and found out that all traces of human life had been sucked from them like a twelve-year-old hooker sucks at sucking dick. I decided upon three things, A) visit Culver’s website to gather data on the oddly K-Mart corporation, B) interview an actual employee of the Culver’s chain, and C) make random assumptions to fit whatever theory I jump to first, no matter how bizarre and nonsensical.
Although dangerous, I plunged headfirst into the website. I thought that it would be mind-numbingly awful, but I proceeded anyway. I discovered that this was a deadly mistake, and my brain cells would suffer for it.
As soon as I entered the forced-smile-completely-fake site, I noticed something. Everywhere I looked, no matter how hard I tried, I could only see lies. America’s Favorite’s Made Fresh! I don’t see a fucking farm where you kill the cattle attached to your shitty restaurant. You move them from a meat company like everyone else. Frozen Custard, made fresh daily. 140 flavors, a new one everyday! This really pissed me off, because it proves that Culver’s is incapable of doing any kind of simple math. They have been open since 1984 (which doesn’t surprise me, because they would have enough money to run their business after one customer for approximately eight trillion light-years), yet only 140 flavors with a new one everyday? No. No. No. No. No. If you were open since 1984, you should have, including the 140 they started with, about 6947 flavors. I know what you’re thinking, “Willbob! You ALWAYS exaggerate!” Not this time, bitch. So shut yo mouth. And I’m not talking about Shaft. The point is, Culver’s is a giant fake lying corporation. And that’s not where it stops. Delicious Butter Burgers! Try one today! I have eaten a “butter burger,” and they are not delicious or even relatively tasty.
Shakes, malts and concretes! Thick and cremy…try one today! You know what else is thick and creamy? Think about it. Yes, that’s right, you got it. That stuff. Gross. Enough of that, the rest of the website was equally horrifying. While most of it was just poorly made and fake, two things disturbed me. First, the restaurant locator. This means there is more than one Culver’s. Jesus Christ. I don’t know of many things more disturbing than that. I mean, how much money are they making charging so much for their awful-waffle meals? The second, I’m afraid can’t be put into words.
There, that’s it. Scoopie. Ronald McDonald is sort of creepy, even a pedophile, but at least he hangs out with that big stupid purple thing, Grimace or Chimpface or Jewish or whatever the fuck it’s called. And no one’s going to make the claim that Hamburgler isn’t the shit. The Arby’s Glove is retarded, but innocent. Burger King doesn’t really have one since they decided to pull a Jimmy Hoffa on the B.K. Kids Crew, I mean I found this lame ass thing:
But everyone knows this isn’t really their mascot. I’d take whoever was in this suit, kill them, their families, their families friends, their families friends families, and their families friends families friends. Speaking of which, I just realized what a stupid fucking word family is. Look at it. Just say it. FAMILY. What are you, British? Lousy bastards. Anyway, there’s Wendy’s Dave, who’s dead. I guess that those mafia guys he was always beating in “Spicy Sandwich Eating” contests got pissed off and had a “Make Dave Into Swiss Cheese Because He’s a Mother Fucker” contest. I don’t really feel like pointing out how much I hate mascots now, I’m sure you can take it from here, but the point is: what the fuck is Scoopie? He’s an ice cream cone with boots, arms, and lips. If I was eating an ice cream cone, and it sprouted boots, arms, and lips, I would sacrifice my self to the God on the volcano on Tiki Hut Mountain to destroy the wretched evil. It also boasted a few Fun Scoopie Facts! I found that these were neither fun nor made by Scoopie. Instead of “Scoopie’s Birthday,” or some shit like that, it would tell you when ice cream was invented, the contents of a menu, or an opinion like “Frozen Custard is awesome!” I looked in the “Scoopie” section for more information, and all I found was comics like this.
If that piece of shit on a stick on the right is supposed to Scoopie, then he’s calling me a fucking Butter Burger. I would rather be digested by the Sarlac Pit than be a fucking Butter Burger. You can also get tokens from kid meals to win fun prizes like key chain and lunch box that I’m sure are crafted by little Korean children in a Vietnamese sweatshop run by Mongolians in China. I also discovered that wherever my mouse went, it was followed by creep little letters.
Then, I discovered something that shocked me more than my cat when I tricked him into biting the power cord to my space shuttle.
Upon seeing this, things were finally starting to be clear. Actually, they weren’t at all. So I decided to interview an employee, which I stated as Step B earlier. This is how it went:
Willbo: You are an employee of Culver’s. What are your main duties?
Random Informant: I'm mostly on register, sometimes I take the trays of food to the customers, and if I'm REALLY lucky I get to clean tables and change the garbage.
Willbo: I see. The food at Culver's is very expensive. So expensive I'd say fucking expesnsive bullshit. How do you accept forms of payment? Do the registers house gold bars, diamonds, Cadillac’s, that sort of thing?
Random Informant: According to the rules, only currency and checks are acceptable (and travelers checks). But with the right connections, anything is possible < insert stupid winking face ;) >
Willbo: I see. I got an information breach on why your food is so damn expensive. Is it true that your burgers are made of gold?
Random Informant: Well, we DO put butter on the buns. I guess u could say that it's golden butter.
Willbo: I see. According to your website, Scoopie is your official mascot, but the site was vague. What exactly is Scoopie? Some kind of alien?
Random Informant: Scoopie is a "single dip" of vanilla custard in a waffle cone- don't ask me why the hell he's the mascot.
Willbo: I see. That was my next question, but oh well. According to the "Fun Scoopie Facts," Culver's steals people's souls who enter the establishment. How do you respond?
Random Informant: Guilty.
Willbo: Ah-HAH! How do you go about doing this sort of thing?
Random Informant: We drug the food, so people HAVE to come back.
Willbo: Hm, interesting. Outside of your restaurant, there is a manhole which is titled "Grease Interceptor." I have done no research whatsoever, yet I can't figure out what it could be. Perhaps you could give me a tip?
Random Informant: Um, the thing that intercepts the grease < insert stupid confused face with different sized eyeballs O_o > ?!
Willbo: Well, what if I were to ask you about the Soul Interceptor?
Random Informant: …that’s confidential.
Willbo: Don’t make me rough you up.
Random Informant: Ok ok. The Soul Interceptor, Scoopie's got one and he's not afraid to use it- on ANYBODY.
Willbo: I knew it! So, Scoopie is like the ruler of the evil cult that is Culver's.
Random Informant: Correct. If anybody else asks, I have no clue though. Gotta keep things hush hush.
Willbo: Of course, of course. So are you forced to give your souls to Scoopie? I noticed a large lack of soulage on my sophisticated "Soul-O-Meter."
Random Informant: "You," as in employees, of course not. Customers, on the other hand, don't stand a chance.
Willbo: Are you given some kind of drug or suit to give the appearance of souless so Scoopie doesn't accidentally, hm, how to put it, "Desoulatize" you?
Random Informant: I personally think that for the girls that work there, Scoopie's just got the hots for ‘em. But for me, Scoopie would just be a dumbass to mess with me.
Willbo: Naturally. I've heard that you're Bruce Lee's only living apprentice.
Random Informant: Well, most of that is true. After all I AM "living" and, um, "only".
Willbo: Well, I think that this concludes the interview. May I have a sample of your face?
Random Informant: Like a part of it?
Willbo: Yes, a sample.
Random Informant: Perhaps, a nose hair or such.
Willbo: Yeah, that’ll work.
Random Informant: No problem.
Willbo: Alright, thank you for your time. Actually, you should be thanking me for my time, you time wasting weasel bastard
Random Informant: Thanks, Willbo.
After the interview, I came to a conclusion that explained everything: Scoopie is actually Satan in a lousy costume who is cooperating with Cat Stevens to charge so much for their food because it is made of gold and souls. He uses the Soul Interceptor (labeled the Grease Interceptor” to ward off suspicion) because everyone walks by it, and thus looses their souls because it is sucked away. I have drawn a diagram to show this very well.
As you can plainly see, this torrent of evil must be stopped. At least this victim was British, and therefore not a real person. And before I get any crap for this, Cat Stevens sucks, all right? He sucks Major Balls. No, he sucks 3-Star General Balls. Not 4-Star General, but he’s close. That spot is reserved for every single Final Fantasy villain ever besides Sephiroth. Before you respond to this, think about it. Seriously. Well, fear not, because I have already solved this horrendous evil, and made Culver’s safer (but cheaper) to go to.
E-mail comments, yadda, yadda, yadda to roxorboxors@hotmail.com
~Willbo Baggins