One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest So last night husband and I went to do a little pick up Christmas shopping. It got late so we stopped at a fast food place before rushing home to get the kids to bed. I'm not necessarily opposed to fast (fat) food, but we very rarely go because for half the price of even two adults eating really anywhere I can cook a full meal for my family of six that actually tastes good and has vegetables in it. But what the hell, a once a year grease bag with fries .. so what.  We order, get our food, and find a place to sit when I shit you not this market weight heifer and her wrangler come in through the door. They don't even order, just nod to the cashier who nods back and starts pressing buttons. And I can see why. The woman is bashing her way past tables like a swimmer in a rip tide, gasping for air and leaning against any solid surface available as she makes her way across the empty dining room to where we are sitting. "That's my booth." She choaked at me. "You're in my booth." I was too stunned to really say anything back. I mean who has a regular booth at a fast food chain? Husband however was not at a loss for words and in a simple sentence made it clear to her handler that we were not moving and would not be bothered again.  So her husband? Boyfriend? Trainer? starts pulling her to a table where he sits her down. I am not exaggerating.. she needed a separate chair for each cheek. And now that it has been settled in he flies off to make certain the remainder of her dining experience goes off without a hitch.  He pays for the meal now partially ready for pick up, he brings her soda, piles her three large meals in front of her, gets napkins, katchup, refills, more napkins, and now a couple of pies. And the entire time she is sitting there glowering at me soulessly methodically pushing food into her mouth with all the robotic enthusiasm of a baby alive doll. I couldn't help but think of a cookoo fledgling while I watched this tiny little man make a physical sport out of feeding this massive beast. Already spent so much time and effort - the life equity involved, the opportunities in life missed- to run food to one end of a bottomless pit. I wonder if he just had realized one day that there was no way out but through. He can't love her. Continuing to feed her like that will kill her. I wonder if he thinks that's his only way out. As for me I was done. $8 be damned I threw out half my own meal. So Hubs and I just sat there and talked, catching up as two adults with out the kids to interrupt. I knew he was stalling until they left, he had spent too many years in the Marine Corps to let some random ghetto whale intimidate him. We texted my mom, kids were fine, bathtime before bed under way.  It took them a solid hour to leave. The entire time she's staring daggers at me. As her handler finally drug her away, Husband leans over with a wink and says "You know, three full meals hit that table and I don't think he got a single bite of it. I wonder who pays her bills."