A collection of entries that didn’t make it into this.
?New Leaf Franchise Owner? (Smoothie King)
Come within conversational distance of the average down-on-their-luck 30 or 40 something, and you?ll be treated to the common aspiration of someday, somehow, this person?s going to run a restaurant. Knowing full and well that Smoothie franchises are a sure (and bottom) step on the ladder for those prone to pie-in-the-sky talk of eatery ownership, Smoothie King invented a character climbing back through the bottom after having fallen through it. The ?New Leaf Franchise Owner? (male and female versions) trumpets an impressive array of failure: Bankruptcy, several DUI?s, some college, divorce, drug addiction, and current ranking on a regional Amway pyramid scheme. As proudly boasted during the promo, not only can they get back on their feet, but one of those feet is now firmly in the door of, well, feeling and talking like you own a full service restaurant.
Widely known as a rightwing, fanatically Christian corporation, Chick-fil-A locations are staffed to the gills with a buttery curtain of acne-ridden youth group counselors. Understandably hesitant to put this face on an ad campaign, they instead chose to shoot for the street level appeal of Christian ska band, Skallelujah. Causing a bouncy ruckus throughout the restaurant, the band puts the party back in God?s chicken strips, and probably diverts attention away from the bible camp instructors feeling each other up in the kid?s playground human-sized Habitrail.
?Big Buford? (Rally’s/Checkers)
The sandwich has been around for years, but only recently did the idea of a ?Big Buford? character come into the boardroom. The character exited the boardroom shortly thereafter. A hulking, bedraggled, Vietnam-vet vigilante named ?Buford? approaches people on the street, asking them what they want for lunch. When one man replies, ?Whatever makes a turd,? Buford burns him to a crisp with his back-mounted flame-thrower.
“Sheila” (Taco Bell)
In response to criticism over TV advertisements that feature hot quasi-hipsters cracking friendly jokes as they take a drive-thru order, the ?Bell went with the usually fruitful ?it?s right in front of our faces? approach. ?Sheila? is anything but down-to-earth or boring, especially with that $573.00 monthly note on a Kia Optima (that already needs major work) and a bad attitude that could peel paint.
?Innocuous Secretary of Defense? (Subway)
Pulled after one commercial. Suited high-level government employee bursts into a ?control room,? alerts everyone that a citizen ate at (insert less healthy, rival chain), declares ?CrapCon 4? and raises the terror alert level to a Code Brown.
?Glutton Star? (Hardees)
Hardees briefly toughened-up the trademark smiling star to coincide with their ?Thickburger? campaign. With sunken eyes and barely-defined features, a life-sized, sentient version sits next to customers, mumbling its catchphrase, ?Finish your Thickburger, or you?ll be wearing sunglasses inside grocery store tomorrow.?
?Burger King Blogger? (Burger King)
Disheveled 22-year-old in a Ratt t-shirt and women?s jeans carries laptop into various Burger Kings, interrogating customers about service and satisfaction.
?In ?n? Out Asshole? (In ?n? Out Burger)
Aggressive, antagonistic man donning In ?n? Out t-shirt enters rival restaurants, berating customers in a condescending tone. Catchphrases: ?Why don?t you just accept that we?re the best.? ?You obviously have horrible taste.?
?The Oreoizer? (Church’s Chicken)
Tiny LED?s that pepper the dulled circuit board of urban blight, Church?s has always offered a very authentic therefore very terrifying, econo-chicken experience. Momentarily proffered to ?certain markets? was an image upgrade by way of ?The Oreoizer? to coincide with a menu expansion that included budget versions of what your average Babyface fan might order at an Applebee?s. The super hero sped about on a Kawasaki crotch-rocket, enjoyed the tinny sounds of Quincy Jones from the motorcycle?s useless radio, and brandished a shoulder-mounted weapon that fired riblets, chicken fingers, buttermilk shrimp, and steak fajitas at worthy adversaries. His bumbling sidekick, Sensible Loafer, always arrived late to the scene in his factory P.T. Cruiser.
?Wack American? (Long John Silver’s)
Sweeping the recently hipster-trampled pirate aesthetic under the rug, Long John Silver?s subsequent shot at mainstream urbanization was a great (whispered) pop-cultural fiasco. At first, no think-tanker could manage a name other than ?Hungry Wigger? for the new appropriately confused white kid spokescot. Offensive to too wide an audience, the moniker was changed to ?Hungry Wegro,? then dead-ended at ?Wack American.?