The Manager

"This is not enough ketchup!" she screamed. The entire restaurant turned around to see her flip her table, root beer & fries flying. Most people murmured ill words about her, about the waste of root beer, about reasonable ketchup portions, but not me. I had fallen in love.

The greatest thing about her was that her name actually was Karen! All she needed to be the perfect woman in his eyes is a spiky bleached hairdo.

And so she went to the local barber and asked for a most impressive style, and the barber tried, and tried so hard… but her hair just wouldn’t stand up. And she was having none of it. Karen stood up. “I wish… to speak… to the manager!” she roared with the fury of a thousand suns.

That's when boss music started playing. Of all the Kerens in the world, this Karen was the final Karen of them all.

The Karen had clambered drunkly on top of a monster truck plastered with erectile dysfunction treatment advertisement. With a blast from her shotgun she began her speech-

"Snowflakes!" she yelled. "I've had it up to here with your insufferable hypocrisy!" Just then The Beverly emerged. "Snowflake this," she said with grim resolve before firing her Pumpkin Latte Cannon, indiscriminately dousing fans in spiced whipped cream. "I'm the manager now!"