"Yeah, can I get uhhhhh... Uhhh, Miner's Meal." "What size?" "Large. I want extra BBQ sauce." "Please pull forward." Fosdrig revved the automated cart he made himself and rattled his way up to the first window. He impatiently stuck a chubby fist out at the restaurant window, despite no one being there to take his payment. Fosdrig could feel the sweat begin to ooze out of his pores and into the paper currency he held in his hand. He didn't care though. That's what they get for making me wait. His mind began to wander. It eventually landed on a memory from last week, where he used the self check out at Dorget. Fuh. If I'm doing all the work they should discount my -- "Here you are sir, very sorry about the wait! We're missing a couple colleagues today!" Fosdrig looked up and was taken aback at what he saw. It was a Skeezick. A Skeezick working in an Ironfist restaurant in Ironfist territory. The smiling young Skeezick, dressed in a uniform that clearly wasn't made for his body, held out a paper bag with one hand while the other hand was ready for payment. For a moment, Fosdrig couldn't unclench his fist. The scene was of absolute chaos behind the Skeezick as a shortage of red faced employees scrambled to complete the mountains of orders coming in while honks erupted from the growing line in the drive through, but Fosdrig was momentarily frozen. A f***ing Skeezick. He finally released the money into the hand of the refugee and grabbed his food. The young Skeezick's smile, which had been slowly fading as he realized what kind of Dwarf he was facing, snapped back into place as he thanked Fosdrig with a little wave. This land is going to absolute SH**. It's got to be those new royals. Those spineless cowards are allowing animals into this land, allowing rap**** into this land, allowing criminals into this land. I hope their daughters are ra*** and their sons beheaded so they understand the struggles normal people go through thanks to their sense of "morality." They'll never be like us. They belong in their own country where they can riot and steal to their heart's content. Slamming the door shut, Fosdrig took a seat in his living room and plopped the bag of food down next to him. He didn't see the extra BBQ sauce he had asked for. F**king animal.