Summary: What did Stockwell say? "You can work at the local MacDonald's for all I care?" The A-team needs some quick cash, but no jobs in their "normal" line of work are available. With apologies to MacDonald's, may they never have the A-team work for them. Written for and with Wee Hamish.
Rating: G
Episode Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own the A-team. But if you find them abandoned somewhere, send them my way.
You Want Fries wit' that, Sucker?
"Oh, Hannibal!"
BA surveyed the area. Every since Stockwell had released them from his employ, the A-team had been looking for a means to support themselves, while awaiting the final processing of their pardons. While they had agreed on a "settlement fee," they were reluctant to access that cash at the moment. And it had been difficult tapping into their former line of work, as their "execution" had driven away many possible clients.
When Hannibal had called them and said he had found a means for some quick cash, the team had been hopeful. But now, as they stood in the employees' entrance of a local McDonald's restaurant, they were not so sure.
"Man, Face couldn't scam anything worse than this!" BA continued, "There got to be somethin' better."
Face looked indignant at the charge, and started to protest, but Hannibal interrupted. "There isn't and he didn't," Hannibal said, "Now I've got us on the night shift on purpose. We can run the place."
BA continued to scowl as Murdock and Frankie poked their way through the kitchen area of the restaurant. Hannibal put his arm around BA's shoulders. "Come on, BA," he said, "It will only be until our pardons get processed."
"Yeah, you know how the government works," Face added, "And with Stockwell in the process, it will take as long as he wants it to."
BA looked from one to the other. He shook his head in disgust. "A McDonald's," he muttered in disbelief. Hannibal smiled broadly. Face's grin was less certain.
"Okay," said Hannibal, "Now the manager said he'd leave us uniforms in the office-"
"Uniforms!" protested Face.
"-so everyone change, and let's get started. The employee locker room is downstairs."
There were ten sets of uniforms, two for each, in the office. Hannibal claimed the office for his dressing room and the others retired to the employee locker room.
"Polyester," Face complained, "It doesn't fit with my wardrobe."
"How come we don't get the neat hats the girls do?" added Murdock, "I want one of those hats."
Face patted him on the shoulder. "You can wear your own hat, "he said, "At least the colonel doesn't have us working at a Kentucky Fried Chicken."
The others groaned. "Face, that was a sheep joke," said Murdock.
"A sheep joke?" asked Frankie.
"Yeah," said Murdock, "Ba-aa-aa-ad."
"Shut up, fool," growled BA, "If we have t' work here, let's get it over with."
They returned upstairs. "Don't forget to clock in," Hannibal reminded them, "The manager's picky about that." Exchanging bemused looks, they complied.
"Okay," said Hannibal, "Murdock, you and Frankie get the fryers and the grills. BA, you get the counter. Face, you've got counter and drive-through."
"And what about you, oh great leader?" asked Face.
"I'll help out wherever," said Hannibal.
The drive-through speaker began to beep. Settling the paper hat on his head, Face went over to it. Grimacing, he flicked on the speaker and said, "Welcome to MacDonald's. What would you like?"
The speaker crackled and hissed. "I want a hamburger with extra ketchup and pickles, a large Coke, and a large order of fries."
"Okay," said Face, punching the order into the computer. The total came up. "That'll be three eighty-five." There was silence from the speaker.
"Face," said Hannibal, "You're supposed to read the order back to them."
"Oh, right." Face read back the order.
"Yeah," said the voice in the speaker. There was a pause, then a faint mutter from the speaker, "Damn trainees."
The printer in the kitchen chattered as the order came through. Murdock grabbed it and yelled to Frankie, "Baskets away! Dive, dive, dive!" He tossed some hamburgers patties on the grill, sending them skittering over the surface. "Who wants to play 'Hamburger Hockey' with me?" He flipped the burgers neatly, tossed one patty onto a bun and assembled the sandwich.
Face waited impatiently for the finished product. "C'mon, guys," he said, "This guy's getting antsy."
Murdock tossed the wrapped burger at him. Startled, Face just managed to catch it. "Murdock," he said warningly, and stuffed it into a bag. He grabbed the bag of fries from Frankie, and hurried to the drive-through window. He handed the bag to the customer, who snatched it and drove off, scowling and muttering under his breath.
Hannibal pulled the cigar from his mouth. "The manager said they get a rush after the movie lets out," he said, "Right about now. Murdock and Frankie, get a batch of food ready."
He went over to the grill area to help Murdock with the hamburgers.
The air began to smell greasy, as the first batch of hamburgers came off the grill. Hannibal wrapped a batch of burgers, then stopped as Murdock's actions caught his eye. "Murdock," he said, "What are you doing?"
Murdock looked up from his work. The burgers in front of him had ketchup and mustard designs-mostly happy and sad faces, with pickle noses. "Onions always make me cry," he explained, "They make the hamburgers cry, too."
BA came over to look. "You ain't supposed to be drawing no faces," he said, "They's hamburgers, not people."
"You get back to your counter," retorted Murdock, "Hannibal said I'm on the grill and you're on counter."
"Shut up, fool."
"BA, will you get up here," called Face.
"Yeah, get up there," said Murdock, "Frankie, I think the fries are burning!"
BA returned to the counter. Face was already taking orders at one register. Hannibal had moved into the drive-through window. BA went to the remaining register, and looked at the customer there.
"Uh, yeah," the man stammered, unnerved by BA's scowl, "Uh, I want, uh, a Big Mac, uh, to go."
BA's scowl deepened as he punched in the order. "You want fries wi' that?" he asked.
Staring in awe at BA, the customer hadn't heard him. BA raised his voice and repeated, "You want fries wi' that, sucker?"
"No, uh, yes, um, small fries. Please?"
A few customers moved from BA's line over to Face's. BA slapped down a tray, and went to collect the order. He stopped at the hamburger bin and yelled to Murdock, "Hurry up wi' my order."
Murdock's face appeared over the bin. "BA, this establishment has a reputation for good, fast food, and I-"
"You get my order up here, fool," BA shouted, "Or I'll come back there and-"
"BA, will you move?" Face interrupted, "You're blocking the hamburger bin."
BA turned his scowl on Face, who blandly smiled back at him and grabbed a couple of burgers. Murdock stuck his tongue out at them both, and the Big Mac appeared in the bin. BA took the sandwich, stuffed it in a bag and returned to the counter. He thrust the bag at the customer, who took it and gratefully left the restaurant. He was followed by a few others who hadn't ordered yet.
The rush kept them busy for awhile-not even Face had time for flirting. Eventually the counter cleared of customers. The dining room had a few tables filled. Most of the customers decided to take their orders with them-one look at BA did little to encourage them to stay. Those that did occasionally eyed the counter, as they ate quickly.
"Man, this is one hot fryer," Frankie complained. His uniform front was spattered with grease. One batch of burned french fries still hung in a basket over the well of the fryer. Dropped fries and bags were scattered about. Hannibal cocked an eye at the area, then Frankie.
"Right," said Frankie, and went to get a broom.
Face glanced at the clock. "Only half the shift is gone," he sighed, "I don't know about this, Hannibal."
"Relax, Face," said Hannibal, "Half the shift is gone already." He looked around the kitchen area. "Why don't you and Murdock restock, and BA and I will get the dining room."
"C'mon, Facey-man," chortled Murdock, "We gonna get this place shining."
"MacDonald's," muttered Face, as he and Murdock headed for the storeroom. "Of all the places to be stuck at." He took off the cap and raked his fingers through his hair.
Murdock was already unlocking the door to the storeroom. He dove inside, digging his way through napkins, cups, and clamshell boxes. He flung items toward the doorway, causing Face to grab at them to keep the bags from breaking.
Face missed a sleeve of cup lids and they scattered over the floor. "Hey, hey, Murdock!" he yelled, "Take it easy, will ya?"
"Whoops," said Murdock, surveying the mess, "Face, you gotta be quicker than that."
"Gotta be quicker?" Face repeated, "Murdock!"
"No problem-o, muchacho," Murdock said, sweeping the lids into a corner. A few quick scoops, and the lids were deposited into the garbage. "Let's go, Face-man. I gotta get some more burgers."
They returned to the front, and dumped the load on the counter. Several items rolled off, breaking the wrap and sending the contents scattering over the floor. BA growled at them for it, as he swept up the mess and tossed it into the garbage. Murdock headed for the freezer. Once there, he grabbed an assortment of frozen meats, and a bag of fries. He looked about, and sighed. "Wish we were at Hardee's," he said, "They got cookie dough." He kicked the freezer door shut.
Back at the grill, he sorted the meats into neat piles. One patty skidded off its pile and landed on the floor. "Oh my," said Murdock, "Suicidal hamburgers." He continued sorting, eyes closed, pausing with each piece as if interrogating it.
His actions caught the attention of the others. "What you doing, fool?" asked BA.
Murdock opened his eyes and looked at BA. "I have to find out if any more of these guys are going to turn suicidal on me," he said, "I've already had one jump off the counter."
Face grinned and asked, "Did you give it a proper burial?"
"Oops," said Murdock. He scooped the patty off the floor and pitched it in the garbage can. "Suicides don't get a proper burial. They just get canned."
Face rolled his eyes and returned to his restocking. BA looked at the piles, then at Murdock. While the chicken, fish and 8-to-1 patties were stacked respectively, the 4-to-1 patties were stacked in three piles. "What you doing?" BA repeated.
"Counseling," said Murdock patiently. He pointed to one pile. "This are the happy hamburgers," he said. He pointed to the next. "These are the sad ones. And these," he gestured to the patties in front of him, "are the ones waiting to find out what they are." His hand knocked the stack off the grill.
Hannibal grinned. "I thought that worked only on pecans," he said.
"It works for hamburgers, too," Murdock assured him. "But I guess they couldn't wait."
"Well, don't counsel too many of them," Hannibal said, as Murdock picked up the fallen hamburgers, "Around four, we gotta get ready for the breakfast crew."
The rest of the night passed relatively uneventful. There was another rush at two in the morning, smaller than the earlier rush. Again, most customers took their food to go, a decision apparently influenced at the counter. The smell of grease and burnt food hung in the air. The team restocked again, this time with breakfast items.
The manager came in at four. "How was the night?" he asked.
"Not bad," said Hannibal. The others looked at him, but said nothing.
"Good," said the manager. He headed into the dining room. BA and Face were there, emptying garbage containers. He walked over to BA and grabbed the bag. "I'll take this out," he said. BA just growled.
The manager returned a few minutes later, an odd look on his face. "Can I see you a minute?" he said to Hannibal.
"Sure," said Hannibal. He followed the manager into the office.
When they emerged from the office, the day shift was beginning to arrive. The manager looked grim, and Hannibal miffed. "Come on, guys," said Hannibal, "Time to punch out."
They did, and headed downstairs to the locker room. As they changed from the uniforms, Hannibal announced, "I've got some bad news, guys." They looked questioningly at him. "We've been fired."
"Really?" asked Frankie.
"What?" said Murdock, "What about my hamburgers?"
"Good," growled BA.
"Gee, that's too bad," said Face, "What happened?"
"I'm not sure," said Hannibal, "Something about the garbage." He rolled up the uniform and tossed it in a corner.
"But we didn't leave any in the place," protested Face.
"What you complainin' about?" BA said to Face, "You's the one who didn't want t' work here."
"I know," said Face, "But being fired over garbage." He shook his head. "It'll look bad on my resume."
Murdock put his arm around Face. "Cheer up, Facey," he said, "There's plenty more restaurants to work at."
They left the building and headed for the van. As they drove away, Hannibal looked back at the restaurant dumpster. The cover stuck up at a forty-five-degree angle, held up by bags of garbage. Some bags had fallen out of the dumpster, spilled their contents on the ground. A stray dog sniffed about the scattered contents, finding the burned french fries and meat.
"Oh, well," thought Hannibal. He shrugged and turned his attention back into the van.
FINI