by Cat Fleming
A new black
Commodore ute, all chrome and rumble, cruises up
to the drive-through window of the only
McDonalds restaurant in town. Inside the
ute: Whadda ya want, Rowena?
Ill ave a Big Mac, a McChicken
an a Chocolate Shake thanks Cal, me
He turns and
addresses the woman in the window. Ok,
well ave two Big Macs, a
McChicken, a Double Quarter Pounder, a Chocolate
Shake an a McFlurry.
can I ave a McFlurry too?
The woman in
the McDonalds window speaks. Would
you like some lard sauce on those burgers?
were doing a new programme for people in
abject denial about their over abundance of
adipose tissue. For up to ten dollars more you
can get extra fat or extra sugar in any of our
products. For example, you can get ten more mils
of glucose syrup in your chocolate shake today
for only two dollars fifty.
whadda ya think Row?
that sounds good.
well have that.
people with more money than brains, weve
got deep fried, chocolate covered Big Macs for
nine dollars seventy five.
something youd be interested in, sir?
tell her yeh.
shes bein funny, Row.
ya mean by that, lady?
have you noticed that you are obscenely corpulent?
grotesquely rotund sir, and it seems that you are
not aware that your repugnant physicality is
precipitated by a flagrant disregard for basic
nutritional rules. Even a miniscule awareness in
this area would afford you some benefit. That is
why I am probably not going to sell you any food
today (somehow, I dont think you would be
willing to purchase one of our healthy salads and
a bottle of water, which is the only food
henceforth that I will sell to you), but I will
be giving you something. This book is a token,
shall we say, of my distress over your apathy in
regards to your own health and well-being. You
may be somewhat offended, but if you have even a
modicum of self-preservation, self-respect inside
your pinguid body, you will read it. It may just
change your life.
you on about, lady! Are you gunna give us
our order or not?
happy for you to order a salad.
dont care what you are happy about, you
pasty faced old cow, I just want my burgers.
Wheres the manager?
speaking to her.
wont be much of a manager after I talk to
the bloody owner!
sir, I am the owner
of this entire complex.
stuffed then bag face, we dont want your
stupid book, and well never come back here
again! Youve just lost some damn good
The black ute
squeals out of the driveway.
window: They will be back