Order at the window

There are no cars in the drive-thru area, but you skirt around towards the order window, hoping to escape the glare of The Yumbo Man, yet too nervous to enter the restaurant itself. A spit and pop from the speaker. You can't understand the words through the static, but you know their meaning.

The grasses wave their golden seedheads at you. Nobody else is here. you could order anything. Or nothing. You could order a single black coffee and leave, and nobody would be sad. There are no taunting posters, no promises of Meal Deals and Free toys, here on the shaded side of the building.

The speaker crackles and pops again, then starts to hiss steadily, louder and louder. Was the shadow always so deep? you look up, and realise almost before you see it, that the statue is turned now to look down upon you, and its face is no longer Welcoming...

Suddenly, the hiss cuts out into a fogged voice, intoning "That'll be kkschrsckllssssect your order at the window."

You move towards the window with dread hot in your stomach and the eyes of The Yumbo Man cold on the top of your skull. Behind the perspex, a shadowy shape moves. All is indistinct. It takes all your bravery to push a few sweaty req up onto the counter, and in response sound pours out through the little speaker set in the perspex, static in a hissing roar like being buried in cicadas, a scream so loud it doubles you over in pain. It fades, after an agonising, breathless moment, and you straighten enough to see what is set on the counter for you, wrapped in trademark yellow and red paper, sweating through it already. You take the Yumbo you have ordered, and say thank you, to nobody.

Enjoy your meal.

Consider: