Chapter the 19th : KFCvsBK

I awoke again, much later, wondering to myself how many times I could get knocked out in this novel before the audience began to get sick of the repitition and went off to read the latest Harry Potter book.
I decided that I could possibly make three more, but that four would be pushing it.

Now, where was I?
I looked around.
Strange artifacts filled the room, and an eerie musical tune crooned in the background. Meanwhile, the smell of burning meat and half-cooked gerkins filled the air, and I realised to my horror that we were trapped in the worse place possible....

"Burger King! Nooooooooo!" I screamed, adding another eight 'o's on to the word 'No' for added emphasis.
"Thats right," Mistral hissed like a deflating tyre, "Burger King. Now I have brought you here, nothing will stop the evil effects of our inferior and yet highly addictive food-additives and processed meat-substitute from taking over the world!!!"
I expected him to begin a round of maniacal laughter at this point, but he held back - I was impressed at his self-control. What a trooper!

I looked across at Ciola, tied onto the Burger King retro-style stool next to me.
"Don't inhale the fumes," she whispered like a Horse Whisperer, "They are a cheap knock-off of KFC's mind-controlling agents, not as flavoursome, but still quite effective. They'll force you to tell a true answer to every question that is asked of you!"
I turned to Mistral.
"Why aren't you being affected then?"
"I am," he replied, "If you ask me anything I'll have to tell you a truthful answer."
He paused.
"Dang, I should have taken the antidote before I entered," he muttered.
I decided to exploit this obvious advantage, and ask the question that was bugging me more than any other question...
"Why am I in this novel?"
"Simple," Mistral replied, "Without you the audience would have no clueless moron to relate to, no one who had no idea of what was going on to work things out with. You are simply a plot device, created for intrigue and mystery."
I sighed. I had been hoping for something a little deeper and purposeful.

But my self-pity session was soon to be over, for, before I had time to ask Mistral how to escape, or what his secret plan was, the door to BK flew open like a Boeing 747, and a man, looking strangely like Colonel Saunders, and yet with a burger-belly, entered.
"Gasp," I gasped, "It can't be, but it is, because I can't lie at this moment in time... the head of Burger King himself, Big Mack!!!!"

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