Tuesday, October 19, 2004

A Screeching Halt

I was hungry on my way to work yesterday, so I did what any patriotic American would do: I stopped at McDonalds.

In the period that has passed since I last ate quote breakfast unquote at the world’s favorite dealer of edible evil, a new tool of Satan has rolled out: the sausage, egg and cheese McGriddle. The picture on the drive-thru menu looked yummy, so I ordered combo No. 9 with a Diet Coke, paid my $3.98 and heeded the scary, hair-netted weirdo’s admonition to “Have a nice day.”

When I reached the first of many complete stops on the road (for those who have never experienced the unbridled joy of rush hour on the 55 Freeway, I’ll describe for you it in one word: gridlock), I unwrapped my McGriddle and took a bite. It was the best thing I have ever tasted. The buns on the sandwich are made to taste like syrup-soaked pancakes. Leave it to The Evil Empire of McDonalds to make something that’s probably made from cow uterus and pig piss to taste like pure mapley goodness.

My outlook on the McGriddle changed drastically when I started to chew. There was something hard in my mouth (get your minds out of the gutter, you sick, sick, bastards – I’m talking about my breakfast!). I bit down again and felt a stubborn little ball of mass between my teeth. I spit it out into my hand and simply could not identify it. Was it gristle? Rubber? Perhaps a crack rock?

Traffic began to move again and I slowly took my foot off of the brake. But I was still concerned about what I was eating (should have thought about that before pulling into McDonalds I guess, but hey, live and learn). I looked down at my McGriddle to see if any other foreign objects were in my path. As I inspected and prodded with my finger, something big and shiny came into my peripheral vision. It was moving. And it was getting bigger.

It was the car in front of me.


I slammed on the brake and came to a screeching halt barely two inches from the big blue Cadillac Escalade in front of me. I had become so entranced by the alien invasion in my McBreakfast that I forgot rule No. 1 from driver’s training: “Forget about your breakfast and watch the road, you idiot.”

My Diet Coke went flying into the windshield and my hash browns became lodged in the CD player. The driver of the Escalade stuck his head out the window, looked back at me and mouthed some words that I presume should not have been spoken in front of my children. I couldn’t hear them over the pounding of my own chest.

After a moment, my cardiac rhythm normalized and my attention turned back to the substance of the breakfast that almost killed me. I was no longer curious; I was pissed. I’ll be darned if I’m going to let a pig piss pancake sandwich get me killed. I rolled down the window and chucked the sandwich out the window and into the center median on the freeway.

I watched in my rearview mirror as the cement truck behind me ran over the McGriddle and turned it into McRoad Kill. And I made a solemn vow right then that I will never eat at McDonald’s again.

But I did eat the hash browns.


At 10:07 AM, Blogger badbad_naughtyboy said...

ha tat is funny well u if mcdonald is trying ter kill ya they did great if they trying ter serve ya u did the right thing

At 10:07 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I hate to say it but that is what you get for eating "food" from McDonalds.

At 11:29 AM, Blogger plydog said...

Daniel my brother -- you MUST rent "Super Size Me." If that doesn't squelch any future urge for McDonalds, well then I don't know what will (besides finding something moving inside your next McGriddle, which has the most fat of any McD item). Also, don't you remember the old TV ad with the indian standing next to the highway with a tear sliding down his cheek? The world is not your garbage can.

At 1:11 PM, Blogger JoeinVegas said...

I'd still go for the fries and the hash browns - bestest tasty stuff around. No idea what's in the middle of those buns, though.
And yes, another yell for throwing the thing away - what, do you want some poor animal to eat it and get sick?

At 5:04 PM, Blogger Lala said...

DO tell, what WAS in the middle of it?

At 8:26 PM, Blogger Laura said...

Aaaaaah, I cannot tell you how much I DO. NOT. MISS. Southern California traffic. They should renumber the 55 as the 666.


Gridlock, McGriddles, and Coke for breakfast - you're going to die early, man!

At 9:55 AM, Blogger Dig-Dug said...

The fat, preservatives and fillers will kill you quicker than an oncoming Escalade. Next time just place the sandwich on your dash to protect you from the impact.


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