"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!!