3AM At McDonald's

OOF DADDY McFRANKU

You stood in a long ass line. Your back scraped against the wall that divided the order area to the dining area. There has to be like what? 35 people ahead of you? Why the fuck are there so many customers at this time of night? Can't a girl get some McGridles in peace? (It is technically morning which means breakfast time so shut up.)

You have glanced at the menu at least five times. The hungered pained deep within the bowels of your pyloric orifice. The whole restaurant could hear the stomach growls if it wasn't so noisy. You decided that it would be best to stop worrying about getting a meal and focused your attention to the floor.
Hey, floor. Oh, hey shoes. Oh, hey ravioli. Wait- 'the fuck?

You looked back up in utter confusion and danced your eyes around until they met...your boyfriend... Frank. Your boyfriend. The shit lips who is always cooped up in his apartment shooting videos nearly 24/7 when he could instead be spending quality time with you.

"Hey, uhh, you alright there? Fairly certain that staring is rude."

That remark snapped your back to reality as you gave him a classic bitch face.

"Ahaha there's my y/n!"

"What are you doing here? You have food," as you could tell from his tomato sauce-soaked shirt pocket.

His bounced back a little. "Oh, I'm not here for me. Pink Guy kept begging for me to take him here and grab him something. I forced him to wait in the car. Don't worry, he's okay. He has his favorite music playing."

You didn't care to give a reaction to that, having heard enough of his jokes. You focused back on the god forsaken line. Turns out, that while you were distracted, a husky and tall lady had cut in front you, blocking your view of the menu.

"Um, excuse me," you piped up standing on your tippy toes to give her a tap on the shoulder, "do you realize that you just cut me?"

She looked over. "Do you realize that you ain't Brittney Spears? I don't care." And she left it with that.

"HEY! GET THE BACK OF THE LINE YOU HUMPTY DUMPTY LOOKING MOTHERFUCKER!" Frank screamed.

"Exuuse me?"

"What do you have grease clogging your ears? D-do-do you need me clean it out and spread all over the patty your 100th McDouble of the day? WHOOOO CONGRATULATIONS, MARGARET!" He threw his hands in the air, then proceeded to hop onto a chair and propped a leg onto the table. "YEAHHHH! DIABETES, MARGARET! YEAHHHHH!" He clapped.

You stiffled laughter. Goddamn it, that man. He always full of that eccentric energy. The lady stormed away. Done with his work, Frank hopped back down and stood behind you. Like it was nothing.

"Um.. Ha.. Thanks for that, Daddy." Shit! You spun around to face him. "I mean Frank! Frank!"

He didn't seemed phased at all. He took your clear embarrassment and returned it with a thrilled smirk.

"I told you to call me that once," he took a step. "Weeks ago."

"I'm sorry."

Suddenly, he took your arm and jerked you fowards, your chin resting over his shoulder.

He whispered, "Angry at me for my absence but still hung up over my dick, huh?"

The surprise of his pull caught you so off guard that didn't process what he said.

"Huh?" he teased.

Tight knots replaced your hunger. His question dawned on you. Temperatures arose greatly within.