A Run-in at Carl's jr.

I was out on the West Coast with Mads, my Norwegian companion, and we decided to grab a bite to eat at a Carl's jr. Inside were a bunch of people in weird outfits with long, black, kinky hair and huge bumps on their foreheads. They made absolutely no sense to me. The clerks behind the counter were obviously annoyed with them. The freaks looked in my direction, and I shot back a derisive expression.

"I don't know what you kids are up to," I said. "But you'd do best to stay as far away from me as possible."

One of them, a male I think, made a move in our direction. Mads jumped forward, and in one motion he fell to one knee and punched the guy right in the balls. I picked up a high-chair next to me and hit him across the back as he was doubled over in pain. The others ran over to protect him.

"What are you doing? Are you nuts?" A female one said.

"Us? We're not the ones in crazy outfits with bumps on our heads."

"We're Klingons. You know, from Star Trek?"

"I don't know, but if you're dressing up like morons and going out into public like this, you deserve whatever you get."

The police were called in, and though the "Klingons" wanted to press charges on us, the cops agreed with me, and refused to hear their complaints in those silly outfits. They were equally disappointed when the clerks refused to corroborate their story, and said they would never go into their establishment again. The clerks were so relieved that the freaks wouldn't be coming back, they gave us our food for free.