Ordering at McDonalds

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“On the contrary, my dear Jeffrey...Winston never actually-BLURGHGOBA...HEAVE...now where was I? Ah, yes,the sneezeguard.”

~ Oscar Wilde on Good ol' home cookin'

I recently went into a McDonalds to order something good to eat. I know McDonalds is the last place on Earth to go for something "good" to eat, but I was hungry. So can you blame a guy for looking for some cheap eats on his lunch break? I mean, chill your ass out. Anyways, this is how it went down...

And yes, I kept a journal for this particular occasion.

  • 2:09 p.m. Monday-I open the door to Mickey D's. Great, what is that? The "Special Sauce" so to speak. Oh well...
  • 2:09:47 p.m.-At the exact moment I open the door, the kid talking to his girlfriend chain-smoking Camels asks me "What ya' wann eat?" I tell him I'm going to the bathroom to wash my hands. I can see why he is the employee of the month for May 2003.
  • 2:10 p.m.-I walk into the bathroom. There is a very flatulent fat kid on the toilet, and apparently, he is eating aswell. I happen to see graffiti hap-hazardly scrawled on the mirror, and apparently "Kim-Dan loves dat shiiiiiiit". Damn, of course, there are no paper towels to dry my hands on. I wind up drying my hands on my pants. As I am walking out, fatty decides to rip one while making love to his Heart-a-mac. Expected? No. Typical? Yes.
  • 2:12 p.m.-As soon as I get to the counter "Robbie" brainlessly recites some come-on written on an index card taped to the cash register. Oh that's nice; Would you like two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda? No thanks, let me get a number 9 with cheese, a Sprite, and a side of Medium fries.
McDonald's employee waiting and doing my order.
Robbie:Employee of the Month May 2003,Grade-A asshole.
  • 2:15 p.m.-Is that a new life form swimming under the metal of the self-serve drink fountain?
  • 2:18 p.m.-I get my food and-HOT SHIT THIS BAG IS HEAVY-I can fucking swear I got that not-so-nice looking man/woman's bag over there, I mean...wait, that's the unnecessary amount of ketchup they feel I need to waste to enhance a medium order of fries. But now I can realize my dream of owning a restaurant surplus store with the product! Yay!
  • 2:21 p.m.-Alright...finally get to sit my ass down. Unwrap my burger and...SAND TAMPON! Asshole gave me the Beetroot Burger with the allergy inducing TarTar sauce that will send me to the hospital.
  • 2:22 p.m.-You'd think Corky was serving me. I tell him to replace my Beetroot Burger for what I originally ordered-a Quarter Pounder Burger with Cheese-and stupid says, "Okay, but you have to pay for both of them." What. The. Fuck. I comply, simply because I want to get my food-and my ass out of here-as fast as I can.
  • 2:49 p.m.-It doesn't take roughly 25 minutes to make a freaking Quarter Pounder Burger with Cheese...This is a FAST FOOD restaurant, am I correct? Alas, he hands me my burger. Walking back to my seat, I notice a young Mexican boy toying with my drink and eating my fries,as mommy finishes her "Baby Grilled Cranberry Caeser Ranchero Taco Salad". Can't you take care of your ignoramus for one second? I tell Little Junior Sonofabitch to quit playing with my food, and the little shit kicks me in the shin. Mommy says "Sorry"...Oh are you, fucking ass-burgers?
Touch me again and I'll smash a frozen turd in your eye.
  • 2:54 p.m.-I finally get to sit down. I remove the top bun to put some ketchup on my burger, and also "Bonethia" must not wear a hair net. I remove the hair and finally take a bite of my burger. It's not half bad...meaning that it's not perfect. It's fucking cold. At this point,I don't care. Here comes the cleaning lady, with a mop and bucket, cleaning the area directly beneath my feet as if this was the only time in her 8 hour shift to clean THIS SPECIFIC 2x2 area of tile. I bite into the burger with all my might. I think my gums have frost bite...
  • 3:01 p.m.-Finish my Burger. My lips are a pale blue. I get up for a refill when I slip on a discarded mayonnaise covered piece of lettuce and land my ass in a puddle of Orange Soda. I wind up sticking the leftover Ice in my cup down the back of my pants.
Why not?
  • 3:04 p.m.-I exit McDonalds. On the way out, Robbie tells me "Thanks for vistin' McDonalds". As I am walking to my Chevy Cobalt, a homeless man tries to show me a bad trick with kitten huffing and keeps harassing me until I buy him a Vanilla Milkshake.
  • 3:30 p.m.-I get home. I get the runs and-BY GOD THEY ARE ORANGE. *DRY HEAVES* OH GOD!
  • 4:27 a.m. Friday-I exit the Bathroom.

Aftermath[edit | edit source]

3 Days Later

  • Man: Hey Kids,Wanna go to McDonalds?!
  • Kids: Yay! Unhealthy greasy fast food!

See also[edit | edit source]