Rudd was a former marine captain who was discharged for his part in a theft operation. Now he had nothing to do except terrorize poor Gordy, who represented all the yellow-bellied dandies that he had ever worked with in the service. Everyday he would think of a new way of intimidating and humiliating Gordy. He had promoted worker after worker to cashier while Gordy had stayed at the low-level job of burgerflipper. 

Gordy was watching the slow moving clock when he accidentally dropped a frozen pattie on the ground, closing his eyes in frustration. The last time he had done the very same thing, Rudd had verbally tore him to pieces in front of his coworkers, acting as if he had offended him personally. Dropping a burger on the floor was the equivalent of insulting Rudd's dear Mama.

Quickly, Gordy tried to pick the frozen meat up off of the floor before Rudd noticed. He jumped, almost falling down, when he heard the volcanically loud voice behind him. He stood up straight and turned around.

"Benson! What in the hell did I tell you about wasting meat! You low-life scum!"

Gordy had been thinking about quitting his job all month. Chicken Train, the competing fast food restaurant just down the street had told him that they were looking for a fry guy. He was going to have to wear the engineers cap with feathers in it, but so what. Any job would be better than this one. He had tried to tell Rudd many times this month that he was leaving, but he hadn't been able to work up the guts. He felt the unfamiliar heat of anger rising up the back of his neck, and he knew that he was finally going to tell the ex-marine where he could
go. He was tired of being treated with no respect. He was tired of being Rudd's punching bag. For some reason Rudd saw him as being the symbol for everything that had gone wrong with his career in the service and he was tired of it.

Rudd was standing in front of him, uncomfortably close, his veins popping out across his shaved head. His breath smelled of garlic and cabbage. "Why you just standing there looking at me, Benson! Bend down and pick that meat the hell up! And you know what else, Benson? You're going to have to eat that piece of meat that you wasted!"

"No," Gordy said meekly, although he held his ground. A crowd of burger workers were gathering around, most of them snickering, especially Billy Bob Frederick, his neighbor and former high school classmate. Billy Bob could only be defined as a Rudd Jr.

"NO! WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, NO?" Rudd shouted, slapping him
across the face. "GET DOWN ON THAT FLOOR AND PICK UP THAT MEAT, BENSON, OR YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"

"I said no, Rudd," Gordy said, his voice rising with newfound confidence. It was time to stand up for all the harassed burger workers everywhere. He sucked in his potbelly and stood his ground. "I quit, so screw you, and everybody that works here.""What did you say, Benson?" Rudd asked, his eyes firing up
dangerously. "You can't quit, boy. I own you."

"Kiss my ass!" Gordy shouted, enjoying his moment. His co-workers' eyes widened in amazement. Nobody told off Lester Rudd. Billy Bob Frederick began to chortle, his big belly shaking up and down.

All the workers gasped in shock when Rudd spun Gordy around and planted a big kiss on Gordy's wide ass, making a disgusting smacking sound with his lips. Gordy turned around and looked into Rudd's embarrassed eyes. Rudd was completely mortified, getting up from his knees vacantly, looking as if he had been stunned to his core. For a moment the kitchen was completely silent, then, like a dam bursting, the room exploded with the sounds of laughter.

Rudd had only one way to save his honor. He was going to have to beat this boy plum to death. He charged at Gordy, leaping into the air with the fury of a wild animal. "Stop!" Gordy shouted.

Rudd froze in mid-air. He held there for a moment, not unlike Wile E. Coyote after leaping off yet another cliff, then fell heavily to the floor, the air rushing from his muscled body in a grunt. When he looked up at Gordy, the frozen burger was stuck to the middle of his forehead. By this time Gordy's co-workers were practically falling to the floor in tears of uncontrollable laughter.

Gordy, sensing the power of his own words, looked down at Rudd with an enormous smile on his face. He hiked up his pants and little and said, "Get up, Rudd!"

Rudd came to his feet quickly, as if an unseen hand had pulled him up.

"I don't mean stand up, you asshole!" Gordy shouted. "I mean get up!"

"I don't know what you mean," Rudd whimpered.

"To the ceiling! Get up to the damn ceiling and stay there! Remember that time I tossed that burger too high and it stuck to the ceiling? Just like that!"

Rudd flew screaming to the ceiling like a magnet to a refrigerator door. He looked down at the floor in terror. A long line of spittle was falling from his open mouth. All the workers looked up to the ceiling, their faces flushed with the awe usually reserved for religious miracles, the frozen burger patty that was still stuck to Rudd's forehead came loose and fell to the floor with a metallic click. The worker's faces followed the burger down to the floor dumbly. They looked back up to the ceiling at Rudd and then their heads turned toward Gordy, whose pimpled face was still grinning psychotically. Rudd whimpered like a kicked dog from the ceiling.

Everybody tried to run from the kitchen at the same time. As a result, a few of them got stuck in the door in a kind of Three Stooges maneuver.

"Get back here," Gordy ordered. He didn't feel the need to shout anymore. He knew that it wasn't necessary. He had been praying for this power since he was a kid, begging for it on his hands and knees every night. Now it had been finally granted to him. All four of them came marching back into the kitchen, complete slaves to his order. They stood under Rudd, almost in marching formation.

Billy Bob Frederick looked like he was about to join Rudd in his girlie-like sobbing. Gordy shook his head. "Oh man, Billy Bob, you remember all those times you beat the tar out of me when we was in high school?"

Billy Bob was shaking his head back and fourth rapidly. "No."

Gordy laughed. "Well, I do, Billy Bob. I do. I suppose you want to apologize to me now?"

"Gordy, I am so damn sorry," Billy Bob said, his hands running through his hair nervously. "I love you, Gordy. I adore you. I'm sorrier than all hell."

"I bet you are, Billy Bob. But you know as well as I that forgiveness don't come that easy. Forgiveness is something that's earned. You want to earn your forgiveness, Billy Bob?"

Billy Bob was shaking his head back and forth and nodding at the same time.

"I'll tell you what, Billy Bob. I want you to serenade me. If you do it real good, I might just forgive you."

Billy Bob had no idea what the word serenade even meant. He looked at Gordy, his face filled with confusion and fear.

"Sing, you idiot," Gordy explained. "I want you to sing me a song, and if you sing it real sweet-like you may earn your stars." Rudd was crying from the ceiling and Gordy looked up. "Shut the hell up, Rudd!"

Instantly Rudd was so quiet that he wondered if he was even breathing.

"What you want me to sing?" Billy Bob asked sheepishly.

"I want you to sing me one of those Michael Jackson songs I always hear coming from your apartment."

Billy Bob laughed nervously and looked around at his peers. He didn't want the guys to know that he listened to Michael. "Gordy, you know I don't listen to that kind of music. I only know country songs."

"Don't lie to me, Billy Bob. Michael Jackson is all you ever play.

Sing me, 'Pretty Young Thang', and don't leave out that 'Mama say, Mama saw, Mama makoosah' part, either," Gordy said, laughing. "I want you to sing it so well that Michael Jackson his own bad self couldn't even sing it any better. I wanna feel like Michael's right here in the room with us."

Billy Bob immediately broke out into an inspired version of the song, complete with crotch grabs and body spins. For someone as fat as Billy Bob, he danced gracefully. His co-workers, despite their fear, were beginning to giggle stupidly.

"What in the hell you guys laughing at?" Gordy asked angrily as the laughter promptly stopped. "You never helped me out any before I became a superhero. I want you guys to be his backup-singers and dancers. Do it now. A nice well choreographed routine, just like you see it on the videos." He looked up at Rudd. "And I want you to spin around up there like a ceiling fan. Lord knows we need some air in this place."

Expertly, Billy Bob's co-workers joined him in his routine, jigging, skipping, and shuffling around in unison, their voices providing beautiful accompaniment to Billy Bob's. Rudd was spinning around on the ceiling, silently, his body a blur of movement, actually providing air to the hot kitchen. Gordy was tapping his grease-splattered sneaker to the floor, his head shaking back and forth to the song.

When they were done, Gordy clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Why that was right fine, Billy Bob." He looked back up at the ceiling.

"Okay, Rudd, you can stop spinning and come back down."

Rudd immediately fell to the floor. His eyes were still moving back and forth, almost giving the appearance that they were spinning around in his head. For a moment, Gordy almost felt pity, but it was only for a moment. He looked back at his co-workers. "Now, I want you to close this shit hole up and burn it to the ground. I want all of you to forget that you ever even met me."

He walked out of the back door and inhaled deeply. He looked at the setting sun and grinned. Things were going to be better for him for now on. He was whistling "I Got the World On a String" as he walked. From behind him, Burger Mania was burning to the ground, the smoke rising to the sky. Like a knight leaving the battlefield unscathed, Gordy went to rejoin the society that had so violently cast him out.

Brain Candy E-Zine has no rights to this story.  The rights belong to the author.

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