The devil is in the drive-through?

Lately, I've noticed something unsettling at several area fast food restaurants.

I'm sure everyone has been in a similar situation: You get off work after a long day, maybe even working several extra hours.

One could cook, but one is so tired one simply wants something quick, simple and prepared by somebody else entirely.

A meal where the cleanup consists of "Crumble into brown bag and dispose."

Oh yeah, I've had that day.

But on more than one occasion, my order has netted a total cost of six dollars and sixty-six cents.

Traditionally, the number 666 is considered a number representing all things unholy, like corn dogs and having to scrape one's windshield on an early winter morning.

$6.66.

It's an unsettling total to have read to you over the crackling intercom. I always suspect I hear a little bit of judgment in the cashier's tone. It's not as if I specifically ordered those items in order to get that exact total.

I'm not really prone to superstition, other than the fact I try to take every Friday the 13th off from work and if there's a black cat anywhere in the vicinity, I try to throw salt over my shoulder.

Or something like that. I'm superstitious, but apparently not enough to keep me from being lazy enough to avoid doing the proper research.

But it's come up at just enough restaurant chains to make me uneasy. One I could maybe buy, but two? If it happens again, I'm sure it's more than coincidence; I suspect there's conspiracy afoot.

So, what do I do to combat such a scary total? Pull up to the intercom, Bible in hand and rosary beads clasped in my other hand, with a priest along for the ride to exorcise anything which may be lurking in my chicken nuggets?

I could order a little less food, but let's face it, that's just never going to happen.

So I guess it means - sigh - I have to order even more food in order to make sure I'm staying on the drive-through of the straight and narrow.

Which is a task almost downright … heavenly.