The truth was, she still liked to fart in the bathtub.
And to masturbate while she did it.
And to have her boyfriend watch.
And to have him masturbate, too.
But you'd never know any of that looking at her and are probably sorry that you know it now.
"Good evening," Bubbles said. “Welcome to Happy Burger. What can I get for you?"
"A big, fat, double hamburger. Greasy fries. And an extra-large chocolate shake," Rachel said, then turned to Matt, who was still scrutinizing the menu, even though he'd known it by heart since he was a child. “Have the same thing."
"That meal will kill you," he said.
"But you know you want it," she said. “Go ahead, Matt-live a little."
"Fine, make it a double," Matt said as his attention was drawn to the man standing behind Bubbles, stuffing burgers into to-go containers. The man's back was to them, but Matt recognized him. “Andy?"
His friend turned around.
Andy had the face of a decomposing corpse, yellowed teeth and bulging, bloodshot eyeballs poking through a rotting mass of dripping, maggot-infested flesh topped with a Happy Burger hat.
The smell of decay was overwhelming. It reminded Matt of the carcasses the neighborhood dog would leave under his house when he was growing up. But this wretched odor was worse than any stench that had ever seeped up from the floorboards.
"Don't be sad, don't be blue, Happy Burger has treats for you!" Andy sang, the incessant beeping of the French fryer alarm as his musical backdrop.
Matt grabbed Rachel by the arm and took a big step back from the counter.
Andy cocked his head quizzically. “What's wrong? Haven't you ever seen a captain of industry before?"
Matt couldn't take his eyes off of Andy's rotting face. He knew it wasn't real, that it was just a delusion, but it was so vivid, so horrifying.
But if you don't want to be institutionalized for the rest of your second life, you'll pretend it's not there.
So Matt forced a smile that would have made Happy Burger proud and stepped back up to the counter.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. “Your new look just takes some getting used to-that's all."
But does it have to smell so bad, too?
"It was either take the job or starve to death," Andy said. “You've been dead. Did I make the right choice?"
Fat horseflies buzzed around Andy's face, laying more of their eggs in the putrid, bubbling flesh that dripped off of his exposed skull.
Andy's neck was swollen taut, and Matt could see things squirming under the skin, waiting to break through.
Time seemed to slow down, and the beeping of the French fryer got louder and harsher, making it difficult for Matt to think.
Matt glanced at Bubbles, standing there with that dumb smile on her angelic face. If she saw the horror, she wasn't showing it.
And neither was Rachel.
She wasn't repulsed at all. If anything, she seemed absolutely delighted by what she saw.
It wasn't real.
He had to keep telling himself that, even as he breathed through his mouth to avoid the stench and fought to avert his gaze from Andy's melting face.
"This is only temporary," Matt said. “You won't be here long."
"Sure-today, employee of the week," Andy said. “Tomorrow, chairman of the board."
A kid, his face covered with acne, came out from the back of the kitchen, his big Happy Burger smile showing off the shiny braces on his teeth. His name was Chip, short for Chipper, because of his upbeat and positive attitude. He was born to be a Happy Burger manager, and eventually its CFO, and he knew it. This job was just a stepping-stone. One day there would be a plaque outside this restaurant in his honor.
That was true, there would be, but not for the reasons he thought.
"Hey, Andy, the French fries are ready," Chip said. “Can't you hear the alarm?"
"In a minute, kid," Andy said. “I'm talking to a couple of my friends."
"The fries have already been in the oil ten seconds too long."
Andy whirled around and looked at the kid. The rapid motion splattered bits of Andy's face on Chip's shirt. Matt fought the urge to gag.
"I'll be two more seconds," Andy said and then looked back at his two friends.
Matt could see a little tear opening up in Andy's swollen neck, a maggot working its way out.
"It's okay, Andy, we were just leaving," Matt said, trying not to look as one maggot, and then another, crawled out of Andy's throat, which was opening like a zipper.
"No, it isn't okay," Andy said. “You came to eat. You're going to eat. On me."
Andy crammed hamburgers, fries, apple turnovers, anything within his reach, into a couple of Happy Burger bags.
"We are losing the golden brown texture," Chip whined, tapping his foot in frustration.
"Back off-you're pissing off our customers." Andy glowered at Chip and then handed the bags to Matt.
That's when Andy's throat burst open, maggots spilling out everywhere, down his shirt and onto the stainless steel counter.
"Come back and visit us soon," Andy said, his larynx exposed, clotted with yellowed pus and globs of blood.
Matt muttered his thanks and hurried out the door, barely making it into the parking lot before he started vomiting.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Andy watched as Rachel's car sped past the restaurant and back towards town.
"If we lose those fries, Goodis, it's going on your permanent record," Chip said.
Andy adjusted his Happy Burger cap, tugged on his Happy Burger shirt, and turned to Chip.
"Well, if it's that important to you, Chip, don't you think you should handle this crisis personally?"
Chip straightened up and lifted his chin with pride. “I'm management. You're food preparation."
Andy smiled at Bubbles, the perky cashier, and imagined for a moment how her big Happy Burger smile would look around his big happy cock.
Chip stabbed Andy with his finger, breaking his reverie. “I'm talking to you, Goodis."
Andy whirled around, grabbed Chip by the back of the head, and led him over to the French fryer.
"Don't be shy, Chip, take charge." He held Chip's head over the vat of boiling oil.
"How do the fries look?"
Chip squealed, the hot oil spraying in his face. “They're fine! They're fine!"
Andy looked over his shoulder at Bubbles, who was staring at him in horror.
He smiled at her. “Where's your smile?"
And then he shoved Chip's face into the fryer and watched her scream.
Andy got hard in an instant.
Her scream was infectious.
Within seconds, everyone but Andy was screaming. Bubbles. The customers. The kitchen crew.
And Andy just stood there, pup tent in his pants, Chip flailing under his grasp.
"How are we doing on that golden brown texture, Chip?" Andy lifted Chip's face out of the fryer for a moment and examined it.
But Chip had no face, just a sizzling, oozing slab of deep-fried skull meat with French fries stuck in it.
"They look done to me," Andy said.
A stocky Mexican employee at the burger grill had enough, grabbed a knife, and charged him.
Andy shoved Chip at the Mexican, who inadvertently skewered Chip on his outstretched knife and watched in horror as blood splurted all over his arm.
"Oops," Andy said.
Bubbles turned to flee, but Andy stuck out his leg and tripped her, sending her face-first to the floor. When she started to rise, he picked up the cash register and dropped it on her head.