Halfway into a sip of my drink, my friend sitting in the seat across mine says, “Dude, that guy is looking at porn.” No way. There is no way anyone would do that in Wendy’s. Impossible. I casually turn my head and see an overweight guy with a pear-shaped head sitting sideways in one of those two-people booths with a laptop resting on his crossed legs. What a perv. That guy has porn on his screen.

“He’s on porn, E-bay, gay porn, E-bay, porn...” my friend’s voice inadvertently grew slightly louder as the pervert’s switchings became more and more frequent.

“Okay, now he’s back on E-bay. Oh! I guess he heard me; he turned around.”
I craned my neck around to see the top half of a pear head shrunken into a pair of fat shoulders.

The meal briefly became normal and uneventful again. I ate my items from the value menu and we discussed happenings from our days: friend had lunch with a girl, I understood what we covered in chemistry.

“Ha, thanks a lot,” came from somewhere behind us.
“Yeah, well eff you,” a girl said jokingly.

The pornfiend got up from his chair and left a Wendy’s employee – a girl that does sit with him on occasion – sitting alone in his beating booth.

Great. The pervert is leaving.

No, guess not.

He diffused from his small booth into the booth right in the back corner: caddy-corner to my line of vision. Oh fuck.

I tried to eat my chicken nuggets in peace. I tried not to think of the fat guy masturbating fifteen feet from me. I tried, and I gave up. With one quick glance, I see his laptop turned away from everyone; with another, a furrowed brow and a half-opened mouth; with another, his hand squeezing his own tomatoes. The squeezing quickly evolved into full-on fondling, his fingers performing keystrokes on his nerdy ballsack through his khakis.

“Dude,” I say shaking my head.
“What?”
“Man, let me show my chemistry notes.”

I pulled out my notebook and wrote under a chain of carbons and wrote, THAT DUDE IS FONDLING HIS NUTSACK.

The End.



Fucking creepiest day ever.