Gremlin Risitas Entry #017 — The Condiment Tribunal
[Gremlin perched at a sticky diner booth, wine glass invisible but implied. The Catfords under the table—Mrs. filing claws on a receipt, Mr. gnawing open a ketchup packet in protest. The Clown’s paint cracks as he wheezes, folding over in laughter. Jerry adjusts the Dept. robe, cigarette burning low.]
IHOP serves pancakes. Glorious stacks. Towers of carbs.
And then—slides one single syrup cup across the table. Like it’s contraband in a prison yard. Like I should savor every drop as if it’s liquid gold.
McDonald’s? Oh, they’re worse. Two ketchup packets for a large fry. Two. As if Fort Knox itself is filled not with bullion, but Heinz 57s under armed guard.
That’s when Jerry leans forward, robe swishing: “Boss, this ain’t breakfast. This is extortion.”
Mrs. Catford hisses, filing claws on the receipt. Mr. Catford rips a packet with his teeth and spits, unimpressed. The Clown? Collapsed. Paint flaking, knees slapping, wheezing out: “The house always wins… unless it’s breakfast!”
And me? I laugh. Because in that moment, the joke’s not on me for being shorted. The joke’s on them—for thinking they could ration condiments like kings.
🤣🤣🤣
Echoes of the Clap:
- “You don’t serve pancakes with a drip of syrup. You serve punishment.”
Graffiti of the Reckoning:
- “This booth brought to you by the laugh track of starvation.”
- “Two packets for a fry? A crime against grease itself.”
Dept. of Petty Affairs Raspberry Award:
- 🏅 IHOP & McDonald’s — for Condiment Stinginess, First Degree.
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