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|Education||High school diploma|
|Alma mater||Pumpjack Memorial School of Petrophysics|
|Occupation||McDoodles manager and franchisee|
|Home town||Haven, TA|
|“||Drill baby drill.||”|
Earl Bitters, normally just shortened to Mister Bitters, is the franchisee of a South Pole City McDoodles burger joint. He is infamous primarily because of his pessimism and extreme height. Standing at five foot even, he is one of the tallest Lesser penguins in Antarctica. This doesn't really help his already intimidating image. He also seems to possess the unnatural ability to silently move around- like a Ninja -and appear out of nowhere when he is needed, but not expected.
As a chick and throughout his life, Earl always wanted to be an oil tycoon. Unfortunately, when he gave it a shot, he lost all he had in a series of downturning events... or, as he words it, his oil attempts went HORRIBLY WRONG!
He is Agent Meltie's boss and intimidates and yells at her, mentioning his failed past and how her prospects will go HORRIBLY WRONG. He also hates hippies and is a very big supporter of the oil industry, even if he himself can not actually succeed in it.
No one actually knows when and where Mister Bitters hatched. He just showed up in his "hometown" of Haven, Trans-Antarctica at an estimated age of seven, immediately after they started drilling. He had no documentation or any sign of parents. There were no citizenship records or any records of where he came from... he just... appeared.
Earl attended the local school, Pumpjack Memorial Institute of Petrophysics, which was really a charter school chartered and funded entirely by the oil companies to bias chicks in favor of oil. (Or, in short, a Polarian indoctrination facility in reverse.)
Earl was certainly a success story from that school; he immediately wanted to go into the oil industry, and he did. However, Earl's intimidating looks, his unnatural height, his hissing voice, and his snake/Ninja-like ability to zip from one side of the room to the other in a flash made him seem far too frightening for most would-be oil investors. This was the first reason his oil adventure went "horribly wrong".
The second reason was simply bad luck. All the good oilfields had been staked, so Earl had to take his prospects into the uncharted mountains around Haven. He struck oil, but not nearly as much as the rest of his class that went into it. Earl made modest profits, barely breaking even for most years... -and then... IT happened.
What, exactly, was IT? Mister Bitters explained it to Agent Meltie once. Why not let the dialog serve as the explanation?
- Agent Meltie: Mister Bitters, I've always wondered. What was it, exactly, that made you stop your quest for oil?
- Mister Bitters: Doom. Despair. Pain. Thumper truck. Doom. Sinkhole. Doom. I mentioned doom thrice, because that was truly how it feeled. Now go back to the grill, goth-pants!
- AM: (sighs) No sir, I mean I want to know in detail. Also, don't call me 'goth-pants'. That gets really annoying.
- Mister Bitters cocked what would be an eyebrow as he put a thin flipper to his sharp beak. No expression could be comprehended behind his shimmering glasses, but it must have been of thought.
- Mister Bitters: Fine. I'll tell you, goth-pants.
- AM nods and sits down on a nearby stool.
- Mister Bitters: I was young. The only investor that ever loved me- ahem, took my business seriously, was present. For purposeless laymen as yourself, one thing you must do in the oil industry is find oil. Get it? Good. My choice for finding it was by a thumper truck. Since you'd never be able to grasp what a thumper truck is, let me enlighten your little mind.
- AM rolls her eyes.
- Mister Bitters: Thumper trucks drop weights on the ground in order to shake the ground. It's like a little earthquake. The weights, they shake the soil. Oil resevres, that is, oil stuck in the ground- (scoffs) -laymen... got to tell them everything. Anyway, oil in the ground. You have to find it. The thumper truck weights send earthquakes through the soil-
- AM intterupts -AM: -and the oil, since it's like a lake stuck in the ground, reacts differently, right?
- Mister Bitters: Yes. I guess you're not as dumb as you dress. So, as I said, the investor it working on the thumper truck. I'm standing nearby holding charts, graphs, and oil stuff that you'd never be able to grasp, because your lazy generation never knew hard work. She flips on the thumper truck and the weights begin... -and THAT.... THAT is when something goes-
- AM: Let me guess. 'Horribly wrong.'
- Mister Bitters: HORRIBLY WRONG!!
- Mister Bitters: You see, the ground on which the truck stood was unstable. The weights were the straw that broke the laborer's back. A sinkhole opened. We fell in. There wasn't any oil down there. The investor died. I lost my fortune. Doom. Doom, bankruptcy, doom, some more doom, and so here I am. Doomed credit score, doomed lack of education, doomed doomed doomed. I am doomed, wasting the rest of my life watching pathetic penguins stuff concentrated fat and calories down their gullets until the keel over and die of fat and cardiac arrest. I'm not paid enough to put up with you, and him-
- Mister Bitters points at another cashier.
- Mister Bitters: I just don't like him.
- Mister Bitters: So take a lesson from me, gothy. Your dreams? Dashed. Your prospects? Dead on arrival. Your hopes? Falling. Take a look around you, and take it all in. THIS, Rihanna Meltissimo...
- Agent Meltie's eyes widen as Mister Bitters used her real name.
- Mister Bitters: ...is your future. Your life. Your doom. A low wage job on the bottom of the ladder. Forever working away at a desk, or a cubicle, or a manager of some stupid fattening facility. You will never be promoted, never be recognied. Your salary will never be enough to compensate you and your dreams will be undermined. This, unfortunately, is life. Life... stinks.
- A whistle blows.
- Mister Bitters: Your shift is done, Rihanna. Go home and think about what I have said.
- AM runs out.
After the oil incident, Earl wondered around and slowly became colder and harsher. He was convinced in his pessimism and managed to migrate to South Pole City with the help of three random drivers. He didn't dance or sing. In fact, he disturbed them deeply with his scowl and lack of movement.
He applied for a job at McDoodles in South Pole City in 2005, and he was promoted, eventually, from janitor duty to the restaurant manager, in 2007. He never got the district manager job because he was too pessimistic, but he was also too good of a worker to fire, so he remained there. With the meager wages from the restaurant, he purchased an apartment on Resisty Circle, where he lives about ten igloos down from Alyssa.
Now, he works as the McDoodles manager and pessimistically brings down the moods of everyone in the building. In 2007, a severe blizzard destroyed the McDoodles building, and the central McDoodles corporate offices almost decided not to build one back. Mister Bitters went to that office and "convinced" (scared) them to build it back. They even let him design it! (How nice!)
The result was a McDoodles like no other, but still selling the same old artery-clogging food.
Earl is one of the tallest Lesser penguins in Antarctica. He stands at a staggering five feet even, taller than any of the Joneses and most anybody else that isn't a High Penguin or Royal Penguin.
He has wiry, silver hair in a combover over his balding head. He is a dark blue color and is never seen without his black, button up cloak. On his face are his glasses, which always obscure his eyes because of the glare they give off in the light. He has a thin, very pointy beak that is usually accompanied to a deep, seething frown. Wrinkles show through from his feathers, and his thin flippers round out his appearance.
He is menacing, to sum it all up in one sentence.
- He is but one of the set parodies of Miss Bitters from Invader Zim.