You are next. You are nervous. You've known your order for some time now. You've known your order always. But what if you forget? What if, in the course of uttering those divine and sacrosanct words, you make a mistake. The ritual must be completed flawlessly, lest you be judged by those behind you. Those who passed before you will not judge you, for none among them are clean enough to cast judgment upon you. Their shirts stained with grease and sauce and wet with water. Their sleeves are red, marking them as former followers of the one line, but they slake their greed and gluttony with frozen dairy drinks, oil cooked tubers, and blasphemous sandwiches made of identifiable meat ground finely and griddle cooked. Heathens.
Finally, your turn to take the final trial is arrived. You make the final sticking steps, you intone the hymn with the crash of the chimes, you wipe away a final offering of blood and with it your lingering doubts.
"What can I get for you today?" The first question.
"A Yummy Yumbo Meal." You say, humbled and raw.
"Would you like to Yum Size that today?" The second test of faith.
Yes please, with an extra side of Yummy Yumbo sauce."It is going well, you think.
"Any thing else for you today?" The final barrier.
"And a chocolate milkshake." You crack, shatter, crumble. You shouldn't have looked away after the last question. You wouldn't have seen the small cardstock advertisement. You can feel them staring at you from behind. You know they've already cast you from their ranks. But they don't know, much like you didn't know.
For who truly knows the pressure of the Yumbo, save those who have eaten it?