Three girls beat up an old man security guard at Waffle House
You might be hungry late one night and be faced with a choice. On the one hand, you could be in the parking lot of a Waffle House and be inclined to go in and eat, despite the fact that nobody in the Waffle House at the time, patron or employee, isn’t either wearing an eye-patch, has a hook for a hand, or a bunch of tear drop tattoos (or a combination). On the other hand, in the next parking spot over you might see a freshly killed guy with a shirt sporting the Confederate flag with the slogan: “It’s Not Racial; It’s Region!” with 17 forks sticking out of him and a syrup bottle where the left half of his head was. And sticking out of the guys jeans is a burlap bag labeled: “Garland’s Magic Mossy Beans (Maybe Poison)” and the bag is all wet and it has hair on it and it smells like hot noisy death.
Eat the beans, man. Just eat the beans and go home. Don’t go in that Waffle House. Please.