|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2009 2:39 pm
In a small sleepy town in Georgia, my hometown to be exact, was a Hardees. Now its one thing for a Hardees to be bad...but our Hardees is awful. No one goes there except for old people and all the waiters are old. But theres one lady in particular who this story is about; her name was Dot. This is a true story...unfortunatly for me.
Now this lady, Dot, is a friend of my Grandmother. When I was little, my Grandmother would take me to the Hardees. I was adorable and Mrs. Dot had a habit of kissing, hugging, and practically molesting me.
Well for the first time in maybe six years, my Grandmother forced me back to the Hardees. And guess what happened....
I must tell later. I have to go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 14, 2009 9:17 pm
I went into the Hardees. Try to picture this. Old people. Lots and lots of old people. Everyone (Did I mention they're all old people?) is sitting down at the tables and passing around one newspaper because they're to cheap to buy more than one. One of the old women gets up and comes to me. AND KISSES ME MULTIPLE TIME ALL AROUND MY FACE AND ON MY LIPS Now I feel molested. The worst part: The hair on the mole tickled my chin. I do believe I've been scarred for life...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2009 11:23 pm
I think we all would in that situation *shudders*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|