"There is absolutely no doubt in my
mind that eating McDonald's style food are not one of the best ways in which
to commit culinary suicide, but it is a way!"
The
day was overcast with a light drizzle falling outside. I was sitting
inside looking at a list I'd made up of chores that needed to be
done. Some of the chores had little stars next to them, indicating
they were of a growing urgency to got done. Yes sir, there were a lot
of starred items on that page. But, surprisingly, (or perhaps not if you know
me at all), I had little urge to do anything that had a 'W' in its
description. All the items on that particular list required that some sort of
work be performed, and so were summarily dismissed from my
consideration. What did excite my imagination was two different
thoughts, namely 'spend money' and 'fast food'. I glanced at the
clock on the wall. It read 11:10 AM – close enough I thought, to be
in range to be called noon, and therefore time to eat! I grabbed my
keys and headed for the great double arches.
Fast
forward fifteen minutes, and I was pulling into the takeout line
instead of walking inside. A quick glance at the multitude of
customers with drooling toddlers in tow convinced me to avoid that experience. Anyway, the
line was relatively short, (it was only 11:25 for crying out loud)
and forthwith I found myself by that little speaker from which
emancipated a kind of shrilly, female voice.
'Good
day and welcome to McDonald's, would you be interested in our mega dega
meal, today?' I could have sworn I heard a snicker somewhere in the
background. Maybe it was just static.
'No, I
replied. I think I'll have the Big
Mac with a Medium
fry, please.' [Honestly, I had intended to order a Double cheese burger and
small fry, but my stomach had somehow taken momentary control of my
vocal cords].
Cha-ching
went the metal speaker. 'That'll be $6.48. Please drive
forward to the pay window, sir.' Again that annoying static. (No, I
was pretty sure someone was laughing). No matter, I pulled ahead,
paid for my meal at the next window, drove forward and then grabbed my bag
of food at the third and final window. Quickly, I inspected the
contents to affirm they had gotten the items correct. (Too often, I
have driven naively away only to find I had gotten someone else's
vegetarian garbage). Let me see now, Big Mac - check. French fries - double check, and
away I went.
After
arriving back at my home, I immediately went to the fridge to grab a
Diet Pepsi (again that annoying laughter) and some ketchup, (I
always forget to ask for it and they now never include it with a
meal). The cheap bastards,
I thought to myself.
As you
might guess, the burger and fries tasted awesome and why wouldn't
they? I'd just ingested 860 calories that consisted of lots of fat,
grease and other assorted oils. Food like this will definitely kill
me, in the long run, but what a way to go!!
