It was December 25th, and snowing long, wide brushed neon streaks of color at beach city. So hard in fact, that the snow piled up at doors, and made it hard to see very far away, a dense and cold atmosphere, only penetrated by the warm smells of the local eateries.

This very smell wandered down the snow covered streets, floating past the donut shop, past the crystal gems abode, and even past Lar's parents house. Somewhere in beach city, a tall lanky man slept on a couch, that much like his blanket, was much too small for his frame. His Cold Blueish Feet, stuck out from underneath the blanket, accompanied by a few inches of visible brown pants. The smell creeped through his cracked window, which was literally cracked, and shut tight. If the smell could see, it would be abhorred by the sight before it. In the mans room were strewn about green shirts, empty food boxes, stains of every color on the carpet, and chewn up dog toys littering the floor. Empty soda cans, burger wrappers, fry cups, a stack of pizza boxes pressed near to the ceiling, bent from someone trying to stuff more onto the stack, as some sort of crude accomplishment. The walls, which may once have been a grayish tan, were now covered in marker drawings for dogtreat recipes. Many trailed off into nothing, with ingredients like "white cookie" "that one fish" or "the yellow spice" that would be of no help to anyone. The smell could smell the room, and it wanted to die. Before it could disappear, the man Sniffed loudly, "SNIFFFFFFFFFF" and the smell was gone, into his nostrils. Throwing the blanket off of him, which was actually just his dog. He Bolted up. "Like, I just smelled something amazing scoob." The dog turned his head in disgust. For once he just wanted to wake up without being berated by the tall man. Scoob got up, and walked over thim, he who was now running around the house in circles. "Like, i just gotta have that smell, that beautiful delicious smell, where have I smelled that perfect smell before, I just know i've smelled it before." The smell was grease oil and msg, from the pizza and fry shops down the road. The tall man was a frequent customer, and grabbing scooby by the collar, he hannah barbara sprinted out the door, busting it down, and exploding through the snow piling on the door outside.

Hearing the funny running sound from afar, muffled slightly by the snow, Fryman frowned. He sat up in his chair and faced the window. Though he couldn't see the tall man through the powerful weather, he could hear him. Fryman was freezing, his uniform didn't have sleeves, and he'd rather die of hypothermia than spend on a new uniform, or a """"Heater"""". The sound got louder, Fryman hated the man, no one knew where he came from, but one day he was there, like a scourge on the beach city food industry. It wasn't like he didn't have money, but he could never make up his damn mind, and he talked sooo slow. When he finally did order, it was always an abomination. The Sound was, now, deafening. As he came into view it was like a snowblower was approaching. Both visually and audibly. Suddenly the noise came to a screeching hault. With a puff of white, The cloud of snow slowly dissipated. Suddenly the man was standing there, clutching his tired looking dog by the collar. Fryman put on his best customer service smile, "Welcome to the fry - "LIKE, I WOULD LIKE, uhhhhh, uhhh, what do you got man?"

"Sir, you're here every day, you know we only serve fries"

"Like, you have condiments don't you?"

"Yes. we also have ketchup and mustard"

"Hmm, like, there are so many choices man"

",..."

"Sir, the classic fries with ketchup is an excellent-

"LIKE, I THINK, I'd like uhhh, wait hold on"

"..."

"May I reccomend the-

"LIKE, I would"

"..."

"You know sir-

"LIKE, I'll take four orders of fries, with ketchup and mustard, and mayonaise, and horseradish, and relish, and if you could stick the botttles into the fries individually, so that the condiments are all inside of the fries. But I would also like, like some on the side, just fill a couple of cups with each individual topping. And I'll dip the fries in there also."

While he spealed his spheal, the lanky man stuffed a thin arm deep into his corduroy pants. And pulled out a sweaty ball of cash. He slapped it on the counter. *plop* Fryman cringed, And as the man finished speaking, he slumped away, dog in tow. This was typical, the man would usually come back when he expected the fries would be done. Then if the food was not done, he would hunch over the counter, and stare at fryman until his food was ready. Fryman would sweat, knowing he was being watched, expectantly, silently. Fryman hated this. But the customer was always right.

Fryman prepared the food alone, with much tedious labor. In this snowstorm, he didn't have much else to do anyways, no other customers out. The snow blew through the window, hitting fryman in the face, stinging his eyes, covering his uniform in frost, getting cold water in his fryers, which popped and bubbled up against his face, singeing his yellow hair. Now Squeezing both bottles into each fry one by one. Hr sighed. A disgusting mess of yellow and red laid before him. As he had explained, he only had ketchup and mustard, so the lanky mans request would not be completed in full, as it never was. But this looked pretty bad, and it would have to do.

Fryman placed the food on the counter, and stared into the snowstorm. No one in sight. The tall thin man didn't come for 5 hours…. Fryman begin to sit down, but just before his butt touched the seat, Then, suddenly, a tall slim figure came into focus. He slowly slumped into frame. His face a pale blue. "Like, it's colllllllld out here man, are my fries done yet?"

Fryman stared in disbelief. The Tall man was covered in snow and ice.

"JESUS Man, you've been out in the snow for 5 hours, what happened?"

"Like, I got lost, and fell asleep in the snow."

"WHAT IS THIS I HERE ABOUT JESUS!?"

Kofi pizza stomped into frame. Also in his short sleeved uniform, despite the weather.

"What is this! I thought we agreed! No using religion to try and sell food! Even on christmas! You don't see me gearing up for kwanzaa tomorrow!"

Shaggy chimed in. "Like, kwanzaa isn't a real holiday man."

Kofi grew red in the face. He hated this lanky freak, always calling in trying to order dog food chocolate and anchovie pies, ten at a time. Then asking him what his soda options are, before interrupting him and asking for the "limited edition brown pepsi." Kofi would hang up, and in he'd walk minutes later, into the restaurant to order the same damn thing. Then Kofi would tell him no, and without flinching, the mans eyes would glaze over, and he would leave. No noise as his feet moved out of the room.

"SHUT UP you stupid man! What are you doing outside of my restauarant! Kofi looked down at the counter beside him, then at the embarrassed looking Fryman, then back down at the monstrosity on the counter. It had been sitting there for what must have been hours. It was a mess of yellow and red, it stunk, it was covered in a thin layer of grease, it was being served cold. It looked just like one of his PIZZZAS!

"FRYMAN, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? WE SIGNED A TRUCE, that you would not sell pizza, and i would not sell fries."

The Lanky man's eyes glazed over. "Did ya hear that scoooob? Fry dude is like, selling pizza now."

Kofi huffed, and stormed back into his restaurant. Fryman frowned, "Look what you've done, now i've got beef with koffi again, and on christmas day no less." The lanky man didn't seem to care, or perhaps, he just didn't understand.

BOOM! Just then, Kofi, kicked fish stu pizza's door open and walked out holding a plate of "My famous fish stu fries!" He was holding what appeared to be sticks of fried pizza dough. "These babies are going to put your fries to-" The thin man stuck out an arm and swiped a fry. He ripped off a piece and tossed it to his dog, who chomped it down and spoke. "Row RAggy, Rhat's Ray Retter Rhan Rrymans Rreasy RRozen Rotatoe Rshit." The tall man nodded in agreement. "My dog says Kofi makes better fries. " Fryman frowned. The man turned to Kofi, "I'd like to place an order for 8 baskets of fries, flattened into a disc, with pizza sauce, and cheese, and dogfood, chocolate sauce, and anchovies, baked, and cut into 12 triangluar pieces. Then, ten more of those, to go.

Kofi frowned, "eh, keep your damn fries Fryman, I don't want any of your beatnik white trash customers, I've gotta get ready for kwanza tomorrow."