My perfectly awful novel, chapter one

It was cold outside, the kind of cold that causes one to hop about like Jim J. Bullock when he's trying to appear stoic. I knew that I should be inside. I needed a respite, a place that I could call my own. It dawned on me that I wasn't outside at all, I was in a room surrounded by white walls that I'd mistaken for an eternal expanse of wind and of bitter, bitter cold. Why had I, detective Ace Starling, been so foolish? Could it be the last remnants of the NiQuil and Robitussin milkshake I'd consumed before passing out in a pool of my own musky scent?

Never mind all that. I had a mission to perform! I must seize the day, like Adam Sandler grasping after the last remnants of his career. Today I would live! Yesterday was but a whisper that passes between friends while watching 24, "who is that?" "shut up, I'm trying to figure out who Jack just shot!" I immediately knew what I must do. I would take on the fast food cartel! I would shake things up in burger world. Someone had to bring back reasonably priced food that's not centered around "value" meals! I was just the man for such a time as this.

Off I sprinted to the nearest Burger King. "Down with this supposed altruistic aristocracy" I cried with all the might of a mailman on catalog day. "We will not bow to your alleged kingdom" and with that I moved on to White Castles, the dark prince of the seedy underworld known for their "100% grade A beef" I will not be swayed by your brilliant film noir masterpiece, "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle" "I have a greater value for my lunch, the likes of which you will never taste!" I moved on. "Down with Wendy's and her saucy little portrait - a naive young las of red headed pig tails, indeed!" Having conquered the squared patties of meat, I moved on to the granddaddy of them all...a little Irish restaurant that is better known for their clown faced mascot, Ronald.

I was immediately met by the hamburgler on the outskirts of the parking lot. He was casing the joint like Wilmer Valderama at the Nickelodeon awards. I immediately sensed a kinship. We were obvious thinking the same thing, "what the heck is that smell?" Turns out we were standing directly downwind from the dumpster. It smelled like someone was getting a perm while eating egg salad inside of a New York taxi cab. We decided to move closer. There was a party going on inside. Those poor kids. They knew nothing of the five new breads being offered at Subway. It wasn't even a possibility, the hope of a burrito as big as their head at Chipotle.

Something had to be done. I knew that my felonious friend was just the partner I had been looking for. What was once a personal vendetta had quickly become a cause picked up by two.

And so we entered through the playland...