It’s Been a Day Since I Hit the McDonald’s Szechuan Sauce and I No Longer Remember My Name
Shivering in the white room and needing another hit of McDonald’s Szechuan sauce, I desperately struggle to remember which of my friends I haven’t burned already so I can hit them up for some quick cash. I need a taste of that Sweet, Sweet and I will cut someone if I have to. I’ve learned many things in the 24 hours since Szechuan was re-released, and the foremost lesson has been that violence is a divine solution to life’s problems.
Little Schmidt gets back to me via my pager (I can’t afford a cell phone anymore) and I slide up to the only payphone remaining in Los Angeles. I’ve urinated on it so many times that my scent keeps the other Crack Wolves at a good, safe distance. Safe for them, safe from my blade. They see the Szechuan look in my eyes and they know the drill.
Schmidt shows up to bum me a $10, out of fear more than friendship. I know the McDonald’s closest to his house and his children’s school. I’m set, and I book it down to those angelic golden arches for a bit of that heavenly syrup.
How Did I Get Here? How Did I Lose it All?
I used to be like you. Had a job. Perfect wife. Wore pants. Pooped indoors. You think you’re a hot shot just because you don’t have to trade sex for money?
The problem is, I liked Rick and Morty. And I liked McDonald’s. I fell for the same runaway marketing everyone else did, and I tried it out. Big fucking mistake.
You heard about the guy who traded their piece of trash car for a hit of the Dark; what do you think happens to some schmuck with no impulse control and no car? That’s right, I start turning tricks. Thanks, Mickey D’s.