A lonely Anon walks into a Chick-Fil-A.
He walks up to the cash register, where a fox girl is standing on the other side of the counter.

"Welcome to Chick-Fil-A," she says, "so what can I get for you?"

Anon orders a chicken sandwich with large waffle fries, but is stopped when he reaches for his wallet.

"Before you pay, would you like to know about today's special offer?" She asks.

Hoping it'll give him a discount, Anon nods and asks to hear more.

"If you add another chicken sandwich to your order, you get to enter in a drawing to get smothered by my melons!"

There's a good ten seconds of awkward silence as Anon's mind processes her outrageous response.
Looking down at her chest, there's not much to call them melons, let alone oranges.
And right here, in a Chick-Fil-A?
Nonetheless, if all it takes to bury his face into a fox girl's chest (washboard or badongas) is an extra three bucks, it's definitely worth it.
There will never be another opportunity like this.
Another item added to his total and a receipt later, Anon receives a ticket with a number on it.

"In a few minutes, we'll pick a number from a jar. If its your number that is called, then you win!"

Anon fidgets in place as he waits at the pickup counter.
About five minutes pass and a chime echoes throughout the restaurant.
The fox girl cups her paws over her mouth and makes an announcement.

"Attention customers! Today's lucky winner for the drawing is...number 46!"

A quick glance at the ticket and he has...9h?
Anon flips it over, rereads the number, and then skips towards the fox girl.
She takes the ticket from his hand and smiles.

"Congratulations, you're the lucky winner! Now for your reward~"

The fox girl reaches for her chest, sliding a hand under her shirt.
Her hand fidgets beneath the fabric before pulling out.
Held by the tips of her index finger and her thumb is a large, copper key.
Eyebrows raised, Anon asks what the key is for.
She replies with a mischievous giggle, served with a side of smug across her snout.
The gekkering continues as she pushes the key into a slot on the register.

"Brace yourself."

Her hand turns the key, and the ceiling above Anon slides open.
Forty-six melons pour over Anon's head, smothering him with their cold, hard embraces.
All plummeting down on him at once.
Thirty seconds after the last melon bounces off of the pile, the fox girl withdraws to the kitchen.
She returns with Anon's order and sets it on the counter.

"Will that be for here, or to go?"