User:Savethemooses/UnBooks:The Legend of Ron and the Cheeseburger

Ronald McDonald was meditating in his Buddhist temple one stormy early morning when he heard an unusual scratching noise. He stood up from his altar and went over to the window. He peered out into the forest to see who --or what-- could possibly be making such a noise.

The sky was still pitch black, and with the exception of the water droplets that were accumulating on the window pane Ron could not see a thing. He strained his eyes as the scratching noise continued.

Ron went to the utility closet to fetch a flashlight, and as he closed the closet door he noticed the scratching noise had stopped. He turned around slowly, now filled with fear. His hand quivered as he flicked on the flashlight. What was revealed in the illuminating light was somebody who Ron had thought was long dead.

"MAYOR McCHEESE?!?" exclaimed Ron in horror.

The Mayor was a mangled mess. Mustard was oozing from his sesame seed pores and something which had possibly once been relish had now congealed into a phlegm-like substance that soaked his mayoral clothing. He reeked of mayonnaise.

"That's right," the Cheeseburger growled. "Mayor McFuckin'Cheese. Never thought you'd see me again, huh?"

All Ron could eek out was an affirmative mumble.

"Never thought you'd have to pay for what you did to me, huh? Never thought you would have to FACE me after how you tore my life away from me, tore away my job and everything I ever worked for?" the ex-mayor rambled.

"Mayor," Ronald shivered, his clown makeup now running from the sweat, "you know I had no hand in that. It was purely political. The higher-ups wanted an image change and they simply selected me and tried to make a clean break with you. There is no cabal!"

"Clean break? Ha!" McCheese chortled with a grimace. "The only thing that's about to get broken is your kid-loving FACE."

McCheese then pulled from behind his back a giant Hulaburger encased in lead, attached to a giant stick with galvanized nails sticking out.

"You recognize this?" McCheese whispered.

Ron gulped and shook his head.

"Of course not. It's a little before your time. It's the Hulaburger. A Ray Kroc invention, it featured a slice of pineapple instead of meat. Originally intended for Roman Catholics who were not allowed to eat meat on Fridays. It flopped when it was test-marketed in 1963. And now it's going to test-market your head." McCheese swung with all of his might. Ron ducked and the Hulaburger clobbered the cobblestone behind him. Ron sprinted for the temple's exit door and ran out to the parking lot. Struggling for his keys, and wishing that clown pants had looser pockets, Ron ran through the whole insane situation in his head.

It's been over twenty years since I took over as the face of McDonald's. Why now? Why wait all this time to seek revenge. And how is he such a badass all of a sudden?

He got into his car, which he only now regretted owning considering how its bright colors and sign proclaiming "Hi, I'm Ronald McDonald" would now make it hard for him to blend into traffic. He picked up his cell phone as he started driving and called 911.

RONALD: Hello, 911?

911 OPERATOR: Malibu 911, what is your emergency?

RONALD: Yes, I'm being chased by an insane former co-worker.

911 OPERATOR: Alright, may I have your name and location, sir?

RONALD: Ronald McDonald. I'm leaving the Malibu B'al'aid'ad Temple right now.

911 OPERATOR: What was that name, sir?

RONALD: Ronald McDonald. I'm being chased by Mayor McCheese.

pause

911 OPERATOR: Please do not make prank calls, sir, we have real emergencies to take care of. Have a nice day.

click

Distraught, Ron hung up the phone and looked in the rear-view mirror. Right there, tailing him, was Mayor McCheese, driving his El Camino with his leaden Hulaburger in one hand. McCheese was now foaming at the mouth. Ketchup was dribbling down his chin.

Ron picked up his phone once more and called up some of his friends for help.

"Please pick up please pick up... Hamburgalar?"

"Yeah?"

"You gotta help me. Mayor McCheese is chasing me with a Hulaburger and wants to kill me for taking his job."

"Holy shit. A Hulaburger? Those were dropped from the menu in 1963!"

"I know the story. You gotta help me."

"Alright, what do you need me to do?"

"Steal a sign that reads 'Shortcut' and meet me at the fork in the road next to the ocean. I have a plan."

Ron twisted through the roads of the Malibu countryside. McCheese followed behind, never losing pace. Ron started to get nervous. What if the plan didn't work? What if Hamburgalar let him down again? He had done it before -- that one time when he was going to hook Ron up with the Dairy Queen at a fast food convention Hamburgalar ended up doing the hooking up himself. Ron decided that he just had to keep driving. Rain pounded rhythmically on the roof.

Grimace knows a good plastic surgeon...

Ron approached the fork in the road. He peered over and saw Hamburgalar wink and scurry away. The shortcut sign had replaced the "bridge out sign." Ron got as close as he could to the sign before he spun out and veered right. McCheese burst through the sign. In retrospect, Hamburgalar's help wasn't really needed. But it worked.

McCheese flew off the bridge and screamed to the ground. His El Camino exploded on impact.

Ron got out of his car and ran to the bridge. He peered over. The Mayor was finished.

He then heard a comforting voice behind him."Good job. We had been trying to kill off that freak for years."

Ron turned around. It was a McDonald's agent.

"He insisted he wasn't past his prime. He struggled to stay on tray liners for years. Eventually we just cut off all ties. He's been looking for somebody to blame for years. He was absolutely demented."

Ron had a sudden rush of remorse. Mayor McCheese didn't deserve his fate.

"We'll take over from here. You go about your day now, sir," said the agent.

"Okay," said Ron. "Just... take care of his remains, okay?"

The agent smiled. "We will, Ronald. We will."

INT.  MCDONALD'S WAREHOUSE                              

      The remains of Mayor McCheese sit in a wooden crate.  A wooden
      lid comes down and hides it from view.  The lid is solidly
      nailed to the crate as we read the stenciled message on top--

                                 TOP SECRET
                            MCCHEESE'S REMAINS
                                DO NOT OPEN!

      The hammering is completed and hands shift the heavy crate
      onto a dolly.

      THE END CREDITS ROLL AS WE SEE--

      A Little Old McDonald's Warehouseman begins pushing the
      crated remains down as aisle.  Soon we see that the aisle is
      formed by huge stacks or crates.  They come in many shapes
      and sizes, but when it comes right down to it, they all
      look like the one that holds the remains.  All have markings
      like the message we've just seen.  Pretty soon we're far
      enough and high enough away from the Little Old McDonald's
      Warehouseman to see that this is one of the biggest rooms
      in the world.  And it is full.  Crates and crates.  All
      looking alike.  All gathering dust.

      And then we notice that the Little Old McDonald's Ware-
      houseman, pushing his new crate ahead of him, has turned
      into another aisle and disappeared from view.

                                                       FADE OUT.

                              THE END.