DISCLAIMER: I did not take any drugs before or during this adventure.
Thursday night, for whatever reason, I really wanted a Big Mac. No problem – there’s a McDonald’s within walking distance of my home. So I hopped in my car and went on over. 60 minutes later, I still hadn’t arrived, and that’s when I realized I may have made a slight oopsie.
But even after that 60 minute drive, my craving was still there – my belly was rumbling for a Big Mac! Lucky for me, McDonald’s are literally everywhere, so I drove around wherever the fuck I was to search for one.
I found a Carl’s Jr. Not a McDonald’s.
I found the Ghostbusters. Not a McDonald’s.
I found a church. The closest thing so far to the cult of McDonald’s, but still not a McDonald’s.
But then I saw what can only be described as a sign from God him or her self. I saw Ronald McDonald walking into an old brick building. An old brick building with no McDonald’s sign.
A secret McDonald’s.
I followed him in. And he must have crop dusted me with acid or something because this was the weirdest fucking McDonald’s I had ever been inside of.
First off, you needed a ticket to get in. What kind of fucking McDonald’s is that exclusive? This better be the best fucking Big Mac of my life if I need a ticket just to enter.
Second off, there was no menu to order from. How are they supposed to know what I want? How am I supposed to know what I want if they’re out of Big Macs?
Third off, there was booze. Which made the ticket thing make a bit more sense.
But my strange luck quickly began to change. After some moments, the lights went down and the night crew came out – the manager and some cooks. The manager, a super awkward dude, called himself “Playboy Manbaby” and must have been throwing some sort of motivational seminar for his crew and us instead of simply taking our orders. Because instead of taking our orders, he decided to sing. And dance. And play motivational videos. And his crew was singing and dancing. And I think everyone was terrified because they too were singing and dancing.
This was some weird ass indie punk rock show motivational seminar. All I wanted was a fucking Big Mac and now I have the manager telling me to quit my job. What the hell?
I didn’t come to McDonald’s to sing and dance! But I feared for my life, and I joined in. And I thought it would conclude with someone taking my order.
But it didn’t. If you thought Five Nights at Freddy’s was scary, just wait until you see a bunch of Happy Meal toys on stage.
You read that right. The Cybertronic Spree toys came to life. I didn’t do any drugs, but I fucking swear a bunch of copyright-safe robots started playing guitar in front of me. And it was obviously a McDonald’s because they were playing classic rock hits combined with Transformers and Pokemon music. Where else would you hear that if not a McDonald’s?
With no drug tests around, and an ever emptier stomach, I had no choice but to try to fit in for fear of what these life sized toys would do to me. Would they eat me alive? Destroy me with lasers? Run me over as they Autobot Assemble?
I didn’t want to find out. So I adhered to their rules of “sing these words” and “are you having a good time tonight?”
Yes. Yes I am. Just let me live. With a side of fries please.
And finally, once all those shenanigans were over, I saw them. I saw the Mayor. I saw Grimace. I saw the Hamburglar. I saw my Big Mac dreams beginning to take shape.
What, what the fuck is that?
No. No no no. It wasn’t the Mayor. It wasn’t Grimace. It wasn’t the Hamburglar. It was some horrible Mac Sabbath prank! Don’t shoot smoke and lights from your grill, just let me get fat! Don’t spray me with ketchup and mustard, just let me get fat! Don’t throw your puke bucket on me – just let me get fat!
I stayed fearfully in place while the demonic form of Ronald McDonald did the above. I hid as he sprayed ketchup and mustard at people. I stayed completely still when he dumped his puke bucket out. And when he taunted me by taking and eating a freshly cooked burger from his grill? Well, I knew it was fake, because green lights and fog don’t normally come out of grills.
Fuck you for taunting me.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran out of the room and to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. I pinched my arm to confirm I was in reality. I gave myself a motivational speech, similar to Playboy Manbaby’s but with less “telling my boss to fuck off” and more “telling myself I would live to see another Big Mac”. Once I was in the right state of mind, I exited back into the dining room. And what the fuck did I see?
Like some evil fast food Alice in Wonderland bullshit, I saw a lizard man on stage.
I left for one fucking second to organize my thoughts and apparently instead I had huffed a bunch of glue. What other explanation is there for seeing a lizard man playing with a demonic Ronald McDonald? What? Is that just something normal people experience at McDonald’s? Is this a normal McDonald’s experience in 2023?
I fled. I fled right out the door and to my car. I didn’t want to believe this was the modern day McDonald’s experience. I wanted to instead believe that these Ronald McDonalds lied to me. That the manager wasn’t even a manager and that the toys weren’t even from Happy Meals.
Perhaps one of the 8 year olds I was talking to earlier in the day drugged me. What other explanations do you have for this?
I did find a McDonalds on the way home. But for some reason, after all the above, I didn’t feel like fast food anymore. It didn’t seem like it was healthy for me.
