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Description

Hello people that are reading this I have created a story. Overlooking the President James K. Polk Memorial rest area on Interstate 64 in southern Indiana was a slate-gray sky. Eighteen wheelers waited in line at the gas station under bright green lights for diesel and windscreen wiper fluid from a staff of uninterested attendants. A mother carrying a styrofoam coffee cup and hustling her two kids across the wide stretch of cracked tarmac while tugging the collar of her neon pink and light purple ski jacket tight around her neck with her free hand. Above the food court's dome-shaped ceiling rose a grove of oak trees that had been damp brown and leafless for months. A mountain of exhaust can be seen at the far end of the parking lot.

A red and yellow trash owned by Solid Waste Disposition Incorporated, Akron, Ohio, was perched perilously above discoloured snow. a riot of hues and turmoil.

Frank parked his Kia carefully and looked around the area. He was not like the others, who were constantly racing from one place to another—perhaps to grandma's for Christmas or home after a business trip to Louisville, Wheeling, or Pittsburgh—or from one place to another. No. The President James K. Polk Memorial rest area was the objective for Frank J. Marone.

The Arby's Corporation's black and red cowboy hat signage was displayed in front of him on a fifty-foot steel pole; the curving lines of the double-peaked crown and round brim lit up a warm red against the chilly December day.

He took out his phone, grinned, raised his thumb, and took a selfie. He wrote, "I've been on this adventure for twelve years," beneath the picture. I finally meet my white whale (or is it a cod?) face to face. He distributed it to his more than 48,000 followers before perusing his timeline.

In the beginning, in 2009, the Cordon Bleu Gold was no longer available at the Roy Rogers restaurant outside of Toms River, which was nationaly discontinued in 2005. That one had been quite simple. The Garden State Parkway will be traveled briefly. In a brief afternoon, I was there and returned. The McSalmon Fritters, which he had discovered at a McDonald's outside of Homer, Alaska, was number nine on the list. That one had required more work, including a number of puddle jumpers and an internet fundraising.

The search for unusual and extinct fast food items had begun as a joke. a task to complete. in order to kill time laughs and shits. But once he had marked off five or six of the twenty-five sandwiches, tenders, and salad shakers, the search had consumed him and had become who he was.

After seeing the phone buzz and ding with congrats messages, Frank put the phone back on the passenger seat. A man paced back and forth in front of the Arby's while yelling at himself and smoking a cigarette that had been burnt to the filter.

Frank went to meet the man to discuss a sandwich. Specifically, Gordon Warmbacher spoke about the fabled Mahalo King Cod Filet, who is the franchisee of sixteen Arby's restaurants located in the upper Midwest and Great Plains. The KFC Turkey Tender, Burger King Ostrich Deluxe, and Taco Bell's Cool Ranch Gator Taco, which are only available in Louisiana and the Florida Panhandle, were all on his list before the Mahalo King. He had devoted the previous twelve years of his life to finding these products and reviewing them for his growing online following of fast food enthusiasts.

The Mahalo King Cod Filet has proven to be the most difficult item to find out of everything on the list. Sales had fallen far short of expectations when it was first introduced by the Arby's Corporation in 2006 at a few select outlets. Initial reviews weren't good. The absurdity of a New England fish being served Hawaiian-style had been made fun of. If left for even a few minutes, the pineapple slices on top of the deep-fried fillet would soak through the sesame seed bun, making it difficult to pick up. The pineapple slices were covered with traditional Hawaiian huli-huli sauce. The sandwich's sales were stopped after just four months, but it had already established itself as a sort of cult classic, with a small but committed fan base determined to bring it back.

There were hints. There have been allegations of rogue Arby's locations continuing to serve the sandwich. After nearly a year and a half of following dead ends, Frank was about to give up when he received a mysterious Direct Message from Gordon. Gordon indicated that it could be arranged, but Frank would need to be discreet. A certain amount of secrecy was necessary, therefore specifics had to be withheld. There was a lot at stake for Gordon.

Frank walked swiftly past the man with the cigarette as he swore under his breath at Frank as he opened his car door and approached the Arby's entrance. He walked in and had a look around. It was the peaceful period between peak hours for lunch and dinner around midday. In front of a recently updated counter staffed by three people wearing maroon shirts and seemed bored, the floor was tiled in brown and tan anti-slip tiles. From one of the booths lining the far wall, a middle-aged man waving to him while sporting thick-rimmed glasses and a moustache. Frank walked forward and Gordon stood up and reached out his hand.

He grinned widely. Gordon gave Frank a tight grip while shaking his hand once up and once down. Across from one another at the table, the two men slid across the brown vinyl chairs.

Once they were settled in, Gordon greeted them with, "It's a tremendous pleasure to meet you." "I appreciate your effort. I have read your blog since... Ah, let's check. At least a few years have passed. He had an upper midwestern accent. Wisconsin. Minnesota, for example.

It's extremely thoughtful of you to say that.
Gordon had bright cheeks and a fair skin. He had acne scars on his skin since his adolescence. Nevertheless, he was attractive. His well-trimmed greying hair and the tailored fit of his linen jacket made him look presentable. He seemed more at home in a setting with tablecloths and waiters who were knowledgeable about the wines and cheeses served there. Frank instantly felt underdressed in his scuffed t-shirt and filthy jeans.

"My crew is now putting our order together. Waffle fries and two Mahalo Cod Filet sandwiches are served. What brand of soda do you prefer to consume?

"Sprite is going to be OK. I'm grateful.

Description

Hello people that are reading this I have created a story. Overlooking the President James K. Polk Memorial rest area on Interstate 64 in southern Indiana was a slate-gray sky. Eighteen wheelers waited in line at the gas station under bright green lights for diesel and windscreen wiper fluid from a staff of uninterested attendants. A mother carrying a styrofoam coffee cup and hustling her two kids across the wide stretch of cracked tarmac while tugging the collar of her neon pink and light purple ski jacket tight around her neck with her free hand. Above the food court's dome-shaped ceiling rose a grove of oak trees that had been damp brown and leafless for months. A mountain of exhaust can be seen at the far end of the parking lot.

A red and yellow trash owned by Solid Waste Disposition Incorporated, Akron, Ohio, was perched perilously above discoloured snow. a riot of hues and turmoil.

Frank parked his Kia carefully and looked around the area. He was not like the others, who were constantly racing from one place to another—perhaps to grandma's for Christmas or home after a business trip to Louisville, Wheeling, or Pittsburgh—or from one place to another. No. The President James K. Polk Memorial rest area was the objective for Frank J. Marone.

The Arby's Corporation's black and red cowboy hat signage was displayed in front of him on a fifty-foot steel pole; the curving lines of the double-peaked crown and round brim lit up a warm red against the chilly December day.

He took out his phone, grinned, raised his thumb, and took a selfie. He wrote, "I've been on this adventure for twelve years," beneath the picture. I finally meet my white whale (or is it a cod?) face to face. He distributed it to his more than 48,000 followers before perusing his timeline.

In the beginning, in 2009, the Cordon Bleu Gold was no longer available at the Roy Rogers restaurant outside of Toms River, which was nationaly discontinued in 2005. That one had been quite simple. The Garden State Parkway will be traveled briefly. In a brief afternoon, I was there and returned. The McSalmon Fritters, which he had discovered at a McDonald's outside of Homer, Alaska, was number nine on the list. That one had required more work, including a number of puddle jumpers and an internet fundraising.

The search for unusual and extinct fast food items had begun as a joke. a task to complete. in order to kill time laughs and shits. But once he had marked off five or six of the twenty-five sandwiches, tenders, and salad shakers, the search had consumed him and had become who he was.

After seeing the phone buzz and ding with congrats messages, Frank put the phone back on the passenger seat. A man paced back and forth in front of the Arby's while yelling at himself and smoking a cigarette that had been burnt to the filter.

Frank went to meet the man to discuss a sandwich. Specifically, Gordon Warmbacher spoke about the fabled Mahalo King Cod Filet, who is the franchisee of sixteen Arby's restaurants located in the upper Midwest and Great Plains. The KFC Turkey Tender, Burger King Ostrich Deluxe, and Taco Bell's Cool Ranch Gator Taco, which are only available in Louisiana and the Florida Panhandle, were all on his list before the Mahalo King. He had devoted the previous twelve years of his life to finding these products and reviewing them for his growing online following of fast food enthusiasts.

The Mahalo King Cod Filet has proven to be the most difficult item to find out of everything on the list. Sales had fallen far short of expectations when it was first introduced by the Arby's Corporation in 2006 at a few select outlets. Initial reviews weren't good. The absurdity of a New England fish being served Hawaiian-style had been made fun of. If left for even a few minutes, the pineapple slices on top of the deep-fried fillet would soak through the sesame seed bun, making it difficult to pick up. The pineapple slices were covered with traditional Hawaiian huli-huli sauce. The sandwich's sales were stopped after just four months, but it had already established itself as a sort of cult classic, with a small but committed fan base determined to bring it back.

There were hints. There have been allegations of rogue Arby's locations continuing to serve the sandwich. After nearly a year and a half of following dead ends, Frank was about to give up when he received a mysterious Direct Message from Gordon. Gordon indicated that it could be arranged, but Frank would need to be discreet. A certain amount of secrecy was necessary, therefore specifics had to be withheld. There was a lot at stake for Gordon.

Frank walked swiftly past the man with the cigarette as he swore under his breath at Frank as he opened his car door and approached the Arby's entrance. He walked in and had a look around. It was the peaceful period between peak hours for lunch and dinner around midday. In front of a recently updated counter staffed by three people wearing maroon shirts and seemed bored, the floor was tiled in brown and tan anti-slip tiles. From one of the booths lining the far wall, a middle-aged man waving to him while sporting thick-rimmed glasses and a moustache. Frank walked forward and Gordon stood up and reached out his hand.

He grinned widely. Gordon gave Frank a tight grip while shaking his hand once up and once down. Across from one another at the table, the two men slid across the brown vinyl chairs.

Once they were settled in, Gordon greeted them with, "It's a tremendous pleasure to meet you." "I appreciate your effort. I have read your blog since... Ah, let's check. At least a few years have passed. He had an upper midwestern accent. Wisconsin. Minnesota, for example.

It's extremely thoughtful of you to say that.
Gordon had bright cheeks and a fair skin. He had acne scars on his skin since his adolescence. Nevertheless, he was attractive. His well-trimmed greying hair and the tailored fit of his linen jacket made him look presentable. He seemed more at home in a setting with tablecloths and waiters who were knowledgeable about the wines and cheeses served there. Frank instantly felt underdressed in his scuffed t-shirt and filthy jeans.

"My crew is now putting our order together. Waffle fries and two Mahalo Cod Filet sandwiches are served. What brand of soda do you prefer to consume?

"Sprite is going to be OK. I'm grateful.