Part of me hopes she suffered a tiny ketchup stain.

Oh, my aching head.
I forgot my PIN, in the
White Castle drive-thru.

So, yeah. They’re like, “Pay.”
And me, with migraine, cannot.
“My brain? Infarcted.”

Four cars behind me.
Drive-thru guy losing patience.
I’m almost crying.

Two eight two one? No!
Eight two one two?! That’s not it!
“I am so sorry.”

“I take credit cards.
You won’t need your PIN for that.”
(I am ninety four.)

I grabbed my Visa
And charged a Chicken Ring Meal.
Sunk to a new low.

And while my mood is still floating foul, let me just say this: When you walk in front of my car to enter White Castle all dressed up in heels and a fancy pants pashmina wrap, you’re just the same as the guy entering White Castle in paint-stained bib overalls and the frazzled woman entering White Castle with the three toddlers—two of whom are crying. In other words, you can stop with the loud “Do they give best-dressed awards at White Castles?! Is THIS what IRONY is?!?!” attempts at humor. That kind of crap will NEVER get a smile from me.

We’re all in this White Castle thing together, lady.

And I have forgotten my PIN number.

So, please hush your “Can people in my tax bracket enter White Castle without exploding?!” talk so I can think. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

13 thoughts on “Part of me hopes she suffered a tiny ketchup stain.”

  1. That has happened to me – I was away for a vacation weekend witha friend and had run out of cash. Went to use the ATM and went completely blank.

  2. But why were you at White Castle? I get Burger King, McDonald’s, Taco Bell, even Popeye’s. But White Castle? Is that even edible?

  3. Oooh, I feel for you. My usual m.o. is to swipe my credit card instead of my debit card and then sit there for hours trying to figure out why my pin keeps getting rejected.

  4. I know it’s the first rule of bad debit card management, but I have my PIN written in a secret place in case I forget it…after five years!

  5. Oh, and Kathy G…That “street address” written small in my daily planner on page one as if to look like an appointment I had that day? 20 0r so years-old debit card code, oh yes indeed it is!

  6. Headaches? They deserve hatred.

    Headaches when one is responsible for children? Ought to be banned.

    Your haiku? Impressively constructed.

    Why I’m writing in this format? No idea.

    “Can people in my tax bracket enter White Castle without exploding?!”
    Unfortunately yes.

    Also, thanks for visiting my journal – it was a lovely surprise.

  7. Catastrophe. I have been cut adrift from your blog. But now I have found you. I am very happy. This is not a haiku but it is nearly 1 in the morning

  8. But we’re not all in this White Castle thing together. Up here in Canada, there is nary a White Castle to be found, so my husband and I watch the movies and tv shows and hear everyone talking about White Castle and it’s addictive goodness, yet we cannot partake. It’s sad, really how much we wish we could join in with the tiny, oniony goodness of White Castle.

    That being said, I’m sorry to hear of your yucky, nasty, forgotten-PIN inducing headache. Points for explaining it in Haiku,though!

  9. dear fluid pudding,
    you used multiple hiakus!!!
    i love you much more.

    (seriously, dude!
    hiakus?! the way to my heart!
    you’ve awakened me!!!)

    hiakus are the best.
    to use them in blog posts rock.
    you are my hero.


    i can’t spell “haiku!”
    and i’m an English major!
    i completely suck.

    i broke up with me.
    spelling “haiku” is key to
    an English major.

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