They drove into the drive-thru. It took Woeisme hitting Edwood on the back of the head to get him to stop at the right section. He glanced at the menu, but it all seemed like meaningless gibberish to him. Just like the past few days. Just like all of his life, really, but he tried not to think about that. It was rather depressing and made him destroy furniture, and he knew how Bela hated to come back to a broken home.
“I’ll have a…a,” he floundered, aimlessly. Behind him, cars honked in impatience. Even their honking sounded like his beloved’s voice.
“French fries!” Woeisme snapped. “Smothered in ketchup, drizzled with salt-”
“I want a hamburger!” Something interjected.
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