The way of the McWarrior.

So, one particularly lazy afternoon you’re sitting on your couch, finding nothing on TV but documentaries on grass. You realize you’re bored. What on Earth will relieve this boredom? And then it happens, a McDonald’s commercial comes on the screen and it says, “At McDonalds’, we love to see you smile.” Automatically your brain puts it together: smile=happiness, happiness is Nirvana, Nirvana is Redemption, Redemption is Salvation. All the wasted years! The way is so clear, so simple! It is that of a warrior! The Way of The McWarrior! You must go to McDonald’s, buy a Big Mac; and then salvation is yours! At this point, you are rushing to your car. You are leaping into the car through the passenger side window. Revving that engine in your bright pink gremlin with rusty doors, you peel out of the driveway and head toward the McDonalds . The needle in your speedometer is broken, but your foot is to the floor. You fly down the highway in your bright pink gremlin weaving in and out of traffic, flying through red lights and stop signs a like and pedestrians fly over your oversized go-cart as you drive down the side walk. It doesn’t matter. Nothing but that Big Mac matters now. For you are the McWarrior. Exaltation! You reach the sign with the big yellow M. Dismay! The parking lot is full! You need that Big Mac! Nirvana is within your grasp! You circle once, twice, three times and yet there is no spot and the drive through is much too crowded. Oh cruel world! Is there no justice? you push the despair aside, like a true McWarrior. “There’s no time!” you shout as you steer your rusted bright pink chariot of determination through the wall of the McDonalds killing most of the patrons that had been waiting in line. The sudden stop sent you flying through the front windshield. Glass shards stick out of your torso, you have cuts all over your body and broke 5 different bones not including your jaw but pain is no obstacle for a McWarrior. You rise to your feet and make short work of the survivors, man, women, child, cat or dog it did not matter for they were in the way of your salvation, Your Big Mac. The McClerk is terrified, he hasn’t seen a true McWarrior in some time. Especially one so fierce. The McManager steps to the front counter and with admiration in his eyes hands you the spoils of the journey; A Big Mac. At last salvation, redemption, and nirvana are yours. You discard the sacred box and eat you BigMac, your jaw maybe broken in five places but chew that son of a bitch anyways. Why? Because it is the way of the McWarrior. You finish the Big Mac with a sigh of satisfaction. After which you promptly fall over dead. Those Big Macs will kill you, McWarrior or otherwise.