Can I Take Your Order?

Elizabeth was happy with life. She and LaDonna had a good, loving relationship. She did wish her relationship with Lamont was a tad less loving, however.

"Can I take your order?" she asked tiredly. She wasn't made for menial labor, she'd long ago realized. But unfortunately, their bills didn't agree, so she was still here. Still working for Lamont.

"A number three, extra sauce, no pickles, Pepsi," the man barked.

"We only have Coke products, sir," Elizabeth said.

"I said Pepsi, you dumb bitch," the man said. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"You pissing off our customers again, bitch," Lamont said accusingly.

"He wanted a Pepsi," Elizabeth said, protesting.

"Just give him a fucking Coke bitch, he can't tell the difference," Lamont said, his tone withering. "Get your ass back in the storage room, you need some corrective behavior. Elizabeth knew what that meant. Corrective behavior was always in the form of Lamont's belt and an ass fucking.