Churro 'Hitgurl'
McDonald's Confernce room
McDonald's Confernce room
Carelessly acid-green eyes stared at a spot on the conference table of Ronald The Donās Mansion. Her queer expression showed she was partially horrified and mostly disgusted. From where she sat, the view wasnāt too pretty. The sickening smell of grease and cheese mixed with sweat caused her to stifle a gag every once in a while. Her arms were braced, palms on the table, as if holding herself in position so as not to faint, which she partially felt like doing. Basically everything about her spelled out that she did not want to be there.
Arguably worse than the smell of Pizza The Hut, was the way he looked, she dared not glance at him twice, and he had so far paid her no heed either, she hoped it would stay that way. But at the very least, she could at least say that she didnāt have the nose of a dog, which the Chihuahua sitting on her lap did, his nose was buried in her skirts in an attempt to drown out the putrescence with his young chargeās perfume, a tactic that seemed to be working because he was still conscious.
Pizza The Hut was so fat that even his words came out strangely breathless, he commented on the room smelling like a pig-sty. āOH GOD I WONDER WHY?!?ā she wished she could scream that, but instead only her eye could twitch in response to the comment, she wanted to be invisible more than she wanted to be snarky, she sank lower into the seat she was already slouching into.
In came The Dairy Queen, a woman oozing sensuality and a slight smell of milk. She too noticed the smell, and was smart enough to sit away from it. Why wasnāt Cinnamon smart enough to sit away from the smell? Well, frankly she was hoping she could get through this meeting with hardly anyone noticing she was there instead of her Uncle, a man who was known for being utterly silent unless spoken too, and even then sometimes he just gave a gesture, he was a man who could fade into the background and yet occupy the room with his wandering eyes, taking in information. And so Cinnamon had taken the seat farthest from the door, the very back of the room, where the pizza monstrosity sat. Hiding her presence from either side were the suited henchmen who wore bright suits with varying color depending on their ranking skill. With her were the Taco Supremeās, brown undershirts, green vest, orange-yellow jacket, red pants, and white tie. All the colors of the ingredients to a Taco Supreme, Taco Bell was a very color coordinated Mafia. Things were expected to be so organized with a business who specialized in sauce chemistry of course.
Anyway back to The Dairy Queen, Cinnamon had little interest in her presence, about as much as she had interest in the Subway Boys, who used to be three until the oldest got a nice Fire-Roasted package one morning. But whoās bragging?
No one took notice of her as they spoke loudly amongst themselves, and the closely huddled Taco Bell Mafia kept to themselves, though the proximity was kind of stifling, it as all at her orders however.
Silence fell upon the room once Grimace stepped in, Ronald Mcdonaldās cronny, along with Birdie. She couldnāt help but glance at the door, expecting, before a ābooā that made her bare her teeth and jump slightly echoed about the room. āEh! Donāt crush me buta!ā The Chihuahua on her lap hissed quietly, his head now sore. Cinnamon retracted her arms and sank even lower into her seat, flipping the dog off but rubbing his head tenderly. Meanwhile above the table her henchman had angrily drawn their lava-sauce pistols, but had not fired, they let everyone else do that for them. Her Taco Supremeās were tactful bastards. They put their weapons away after the volley stopped. Their young charge was staring under the table at Grimace, Birdie and Ronald as they took shelter, they didnāt seem to notice her though. She scrutinized their image for a full minute, wondering what all the hubbub was about with these people. Why the hell did they do what they did?
Anyway the moment passed and all three rose up, Pizza The Hut saw his chance at through his two cents in, or rather two pizzaās. They failed to hit their target. But Ronald did get a slight smirk from Cinnamon as he joked at the grotesque man. She allowed her eyes to peek above the table, but went no further. āMi hija, your posture is terrible, sit up.ā Again the Talking Chihuahua whispered to Cinnamon, she shut him up by clamping his muzzle between her thin fingers with a lace-gloved hand.
She listened intently to the quippy remarks being sent back and forth between Bosses, waiting for anything important to be said. So far all the information to be had was that The Queen was a hoe, Panda-lady didnāt seem to like her, and Ronald had no aversion to huge tits. His switch to a serious tone went over her head however; as she didnāt really care about the tones of the voices of people she didnāt take seriously anyway.
āYes, repetition perhaps for those of us unfamiliar with the full situation, we do have a kid in here after all. Regardless of how much sheās trying to hideā¦.whereās the old Taco bastard? The least he could do is show some respect and come himself.ā A rude slur of a voice sounded from Pizza The Hutās fat mouth, to which Cinnamon stopped herself from acknowledging. She did have the sense to sit up in her chair however, as now all eyes turned to her. She shrugged uncomfortably and kept her hand clamped at the Dog in her lap, who wanted to tell off the pizza-jerk for speaking to a Belladona like that. Pizza Hut was under Taco Bell in sales after all, who the hell did he think he was?
āA hitman?ā One of the Sub boys recognized her, āHitKID is more like it, whatās the matter Churro, your Uncle not taking this seriously?ā The other piped.
Only those with extremely good contact networks knew of the situation Taco Bell was in at the moment, and Cinnamon had been instructed to keep it that way. Cinnamonās cell buzzed and she flipped it open, -āStick your tongue out at the Sub-butas for me Churro!ā- it read. Cinnamon obeyed immediately, which caused the Sub boys to prickle like puffed up popinjays.
āJust get on with the meeting.ā She flipped her phone shut and began petting the Chihuahua nervously, her expression now flatly annoyed.