Genre: Comedy

Plot: A person who accidentally poisons a drug lord.

Words to use: fast food, teenager, panic, delivery, puberty, mafia, violence, gang, profit, ransom, hit list, muscle, fear, accident, runaway.

This was his first job ever working at the local fast food joint down the street from his home. He was so excited to be making some money to help him buy video games. Since he was still a teenager so he wasn’t worried about rent yet. His mom made sure he was on time for this job and his life was about to get turned upside down. Something unexpected.

What he didn’t realize that this fateful day when he started his new job was going to be quite memorable to say the least. At the beginning of his first shift, he was shown all the basics, the cook top for the burgers, the fry baskets, the microwave, the refrigerator and freezer where all the food was kept fresh for the customers. The pantry was connected with the back room that was kept for the employees break room. He was hoping that there would be no accident on his first day. That would be embarrassing. Some say though that there is no such things as accidents, but those people are stupid. Of course there are accidents. It was never intentional. 

The most of his excitement and anxiety for his first day was taking  orders from customers and handling the till. For one thing, he was still dealing with puberty and his voice cracked, making him feel a bit self conscious. “Can I take your order?” He squeaked. The customers would smile at him and would tell him what they wanted.  The other thing was fear of messing up an order. He was pretty quick at learning how to take orders so he didn’t panic when one came in toward the end of the first shift. But then someone did come in that he recognized.

In walked a member of the local gang. Someone so notorious he struck fear in the hearts of many in the neighborhood. It was said that he was connected to someone in the mafia, but that was just rumor. What he was involved in was usually drugs and violence against his enemies. Not someone you wanted to cross paths with but here we are in a pathway about to be crossed.

He swallowed hard with all his muscles aquiver and asked him, “Can I take your order, please?” His voice was even more shaky than usual. After taking his order, he dropped the bills onto the floor by accident, laughing uncomfortably with a high pitched shrill voice of someone about to pee his pants. He didn’t want to be on his hit list. “please o please, don’t let me be victim of violence today of all days.” He thought to himself while I picked up the money, arranging it in the drawer. He had walked away already, not even worried about what he did with the money. He had so much on his worried mind.

The man had situated himself at the back, looking toward the front door. He waited the delivery of his food rather patiently. 

“Hey kid, let get you to learn some of the cooking now.” He learned how to make top Ramon but he hadn’t graduated to cooking stuff like meat yet. His mom did that. He was shown already where everything was so he thought, “let’s do this.” Grabby a patty from where they were stored, he slapped on the fry surface. Next he seasoned it with some stuff from a yellow tin that looked like the seasoning salt he used at home. “Cool.” He thought. “I am going to impress this dude with my cooking skills.” He finished up the order including the fries and drink, proudly placing them on the plastic tray. It was safely delivered to the customer in the back who still had his eyes fixed on the front door. This customer knew that there was a ransom on him. The profit for his life was quite large. He didn’t like the thought of being a runaway but it couldn’t be helped. He had to get out of town, quick, before he was caught by someone even scarier. 

The customer finished his meal quickly. He got up to leave and while he was walking toward the door he looked back and said “thanks kid.” That was when he stopped and fell forward right on his face.  That seasoning wasn’t your typical seasoning.

Accidents do happen. Don’t they?