When I was younger I had quite a germ phobia. I was very paranoid about McDonald’s workers doing awful things to my Quarter Pounders. If I developed a cold I always blamed it on the McDonald’s I ate a few days prior, convinced that if it wasn’t a booger wiped upon my burger then someone must have sneezed on it.
I was already in the habit of checking for foreign matter hidden in my food before eating it and it came as no surprise to me when I found a great scraggly tuft of pubic hair between bun and burger, congealed with ketchup and diced onions. Disgusted, I did not eat McDonalds for quite a while.
April was the month that the carnival came to town. It was the best week of the year. It was the first breath of warm weather and the first opportunity to roam around, talk to girls and vandalize property with pentagrams and anarchy signs.
The carnival was held in the park across the street from McDonald’s. We made frequent trips there for hamburgers and vanilla shakes. Around this time, all of my friends liked to try to regurgitate on command…but I did it the best. In an attempt to be funny and impress a girl, I puked up the whole $2 I just spent on fries and a milkshake, spattering it on the parking lot in a frothy white mess. She wasn’t impressed.
My first touch of a breast came when I was thirteen. I was frequenting the house of a big fat spandex-clad burnout girl named Nikki. She was a bit older and had dropped out of high school. Her parents were never home and all manner of miscreants hung out at her place.
One night it was just me, Nikki and her friend Jessie. Jessie caused a bulge in my black acid wash jeans because she was just my type- long dark hair, black eyeliner and tight spandex. There was nothing to do so we decided to drive to McDonalds.
Jessie and I rode in the backseat. I was quite astonished when she sprawled over my lap. “Oh my! This girl likes me!” We did some kissing and I proceeded to knead her right breast in the insensitive manner that befits a thirteen year-old boy.
We ordered some Big Macs at the drive-through and ate them in the parking lot on the hood of Nikki’s car.
All the burnouts hung out at Wubby’s house. He was a grotesque fat guy who was the guitarist in my town’s only thrash metal band. His grotesque fat mother was the band’s “manager” and I think she encouraged all the kids to hang around because it made it easier to sell them fifteen dollar tickets to the pay-to-play showcase at New Jersey’s premiere shitty metal club, Obsessions. I was slowly growing out of my metal phase and I thought Wubby’s pathetic thrash band was a joke, but a friend of mine really wanted to go to their show...so I begrudgingly went along.
Every kid with a ticket showed up at Wubby’s where his mother organized a car pool. I wasn’t much liked in the group anymore (probably because I wasn’t stupid and violent enough) but I accepted the invitation to sit down and eat some McDonald’s that Wubby’s mother bought for everyone. One particular prick had it out for me and smashed a half of a Big Mac in my face.
I became a vegetarian at fifteen. No more McDonalds for me! But after fifteen years of not eating meat, the thought of eating it has become an obsession. It’s a bit of a taboo for me and gets me a little excited. Sometimes I will dare myself to buy the most disgusting meat product like Spam or baloney only to bring it home and stare at it on the table. When I do bring myself to tear open the package of baloney and stick it in my mouth and start chewing, I feel ridiculous. The texture is repulsive and I can’t bring myself to swallow.
I am tempted every time I pass a McDonald's...
There’s nothing more titillating than seeing a pretty lady eating McDonald’s…