McDonald’s Manager: Son! Did you order the seven McChicken’s!
Drive Thru Worker: You don’t have to answer that question.
Hungry Senior: I’ll answer the question. You want my order?
McDonald’s Manager: I think I’m entitled to it.
Hungry Senior: You want my order?
McDonald’s Manager: I want the truth!
Hungry Senior: YOU CAN’T HANDLE MY ORDER!
Son, we live in a world that has McChickens, and those McChickens have to be eaten by men with appetites. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Mr. Manager? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for the McChickens, and you curse the men who eat them.
You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know – that eating McChickens, while tragic, probably saved lives; and my appetite, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives.
You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at TAPs, you want me ordering more—you need me ordering more.
We use words like “Large, McNuggets, and Extra BBQ Sauce”. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent consuming something. You use them as an insult.
I have neither the time nor inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it.
I would rather you just said, “thank you” and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you order a Large Fry and stand the post. Either way I don’t give a DAMN what you think you’re entitled to.
McDonald’s Manager: Did you order the seven McChickens?
Hungry Senior: I did the job –
McDonald’s Manager: DID YOU ORDER THE SEVEN MCCHICKENS!
Hungry Senior: YOU’RE GOD DAMN RIGHT I DID!!!
H & H ’21
The Radish 