ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
“You’d have to be fucked in the head to eat one of those,” she said.
“Like proper fucking. Nothing inside your head but a bunch of pigeons flying into windows. White dog shit all over the floor.”
Angie Heath and her partner Rob Coleman were walking the aisles of the Development Road Ampol this morning looking for a snack.
They were heading to the East, to meet friends and family for an extended beach holiday.
Rob was facing the impossible task of trying to find his girlfriend something to eat at a petrol station that’s both great value and healthy. Some say it’s an impossible task.
Which is why he playfully suggested Angie have a microwave hamburger.
But as she heaped shit on the convienent snack, Rob found himself growing curious as to what I’d taste like.
Our reporter, who was stood behind the counter of the Ampol because they need to supliment their income as a journalist with menial jobs such as working at a fucking Ampol petrol station on the edge of some shithole fucking down in Western Queensland in the middle of the night because young people refuse to pay for journalism then wonder why the government gets away with doing crook shit all the time, suggested to Rob that the burgers are actually pretty good.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” said Angie.
“I’ll meet you back at the car.”
And with that, Rob nodded at our reporter and popped the burger in the filthy service station microwave.
He paid with his other American Express card and said goodnight to The Advocate.
Walking back to his late model Skoda, the disgust in Angie’s eyes was visible from inside the service station.
More to come.
