Ronald McDonald Must Die

We had day 6 of shooting on my film, "A Matter of Time", today and we went right down to the wire. I had hardly any time to get myself ready for work or to grab something to eat.

I took my son, Terrance, to the store to pick up some pizzas for he and his brother. While there, I figured I'd grab a coupe of those little, double cheeseburgers that McDonalds has on their Dollar Menu.

First, let me just say that I've seen Super Size Me. And I've sort of, kind of, felt the after effects of too much Mickey-D's. Lately, I've been using these little burgers as a substitute for a real meal. They're cheap, they have two paties of what appears to be meat and they can be eaten on the go.

I left my son at the Wal Mart near the house with money to pay for the pizzas, stopped and got those greasy little burgers and made my way. I always get two with no pickles and no onions. They always compensate by adding far too much ketchup. Not to mention that they're greasy as all Hell. They'd slide right out of your hand if it wasn't for the McWrapper. And the fact that the processed McCheese is stuck to the McWrapper.

As I got in my truck and drove away, the smell from the burgers started to make me sick. I mean, I became physically ill. I felt like I might toss my cookies right there in the truck. Just typing this out I have to drink some water and resist the urge to hurl.

But I need to eat something, I thought. My wife gets after me when I don't eat and I get those hunger headaches. I unwrapped a burger, rearranged the McWrapper so I could eat the greasy morsel and took a big bite. I took three before I had to put the thing away. I was going to get on the freeway. I didn't want this to be what the cops told my wife:

Police: Ma'am. I have bad news.
Tonya: (shaken) What's wrong?
Police: Your husband was involved in a collision on the 410. He's dead.
Tonya: (Crying) NO!!!
Police: Ma'am it gets worse.
Tonya: (still crying) How could this be worse?!?!?!?
Police: When we were able to peel him from the steering wheel, he had two McDonalds' 99 cent hamburgers squished against his face. I think it was suicide.

I could feel my arteries hardening as I chewed. In fact, I could feel the grease running through my veins.

When I arrived at the company parking lot and got out of my truck, I figured I needed to finish what I started. I took the bitten burger out, fired it down with great remorse and uttered to myself, "This is the last double cheeseburger I'm going to have." As I passed an alley, I saw a bum sitting the warm shade of a building. I called out to him.

Me: Hey, bub, you want this?
Bum: What is it?

Now, this immediately drew my ire, so I thought, 'Oh, you really deserve this now.'

Me: Food.
The bum thought about it. Bum: Okay.

He just sat there. And since this directly conflicts with how I feel about some homeless people, I launched it at him. It fell near him and he reached out and took it.

Bum: Thanks.

When I got to my desk, I quickly chugged down the remainder of my "sparkling water beverage" which was "mandarin orange" flavored in hopes of washing out what remained of the grease bomb.

If we kill Roland McDonald, could anyone really prosecute us?

-30-