You ever go into McDonalds (I know you do. There are plenty of McDonald’s deniers out there). My parenthetical phrase was so long I forgot what I was going to write about. Oh, I remember; You ever go into McDonalds, wait for the order, and that annoying beeper starts going-off – beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. Annoying isn’t it.
The beeping is the timer on the French fryer. The idiot French fry guy is not manning his station, but instead is some place rolling a joint, popping a zit, or cleaning his nails with his teeth.
The fact that you have been listening to it for two minutes means the fries are near to burnt sacrifices by now. They are so saturated with enough globs of grease that an artery will be clogged within thirty seconds after consumption. You will keel over and die clutching your heart like some guy at Parisian street café in a scene from a spy movie.
That noise is worse than water-boarding. One day I was already to confess to letting the air out of Mr. Basinger’s tires my junior year in high school.
Now that I know what it is I just say, “Will somebody get the daggon fries!”
The first time hearing it I thought it was a cement truck backing up. I yelled, “Out of the way, we’ll all be crushed.” Was I ever embarrassed.
Two days later a cement truck was about to back over an old lady with a walker. I yelled out, “French fries! Not to worry.”
Well they poured the cement anyway and she was too slow to get out of the way. She is now proudly encased in cement in front of McDonalds’s as a beautiful tribute, monument, and reminder of old age, slow reflexes, and misinformation.