hot zombie girls eating fried chicken. there is no part of this picture* that doesn't make me want to touch myself.

“Thank you for calling WhereIWork, may I help you?”

“Yes. Thank you. I was in your store earlier today and bought chicken wings. I was helped by Sara. I know, because I didn’t like her right away and looked at her name tag so I would remember.”

“Fantastic.”

“Anyway, the wings are 12 for $4.99 and she put them in the bag and shut it and I told her that I didn’t think there were 12 in there and asked her to open the bag and count them.”

“I see.”

“So, she opened the bag real quick so I couldn’t see and pretended to count, then said that there were 12 and I paid for 12 and left.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, guess what? I just opened the bag and there are only 11 chicken wings.”

“Hmm…”

“I just wanted to call and tell someone that I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“Lied to?”

“About the number of wings.”

“Well, ma’am, today is Sara’s first day. In fact, she’s only worked here for about two hours. Do you think that instead of lying, maybe she just made a mistake counting?”

“No.”

“Then you should talk to a manager. Hold, please.”

*hot zombie girls eating fried chicken picture borrowed from this Flickr account.