Smokey and the McMuffin

I looked at the time. 10:09am. The sweet sense joining of taste and smell with the promise of faux wakefulness was calling. I thought. In need, I thought.

Coffee. Food would be good, too.

Coffee and a Sausage McMuffin. A number 3 breakfast meal. It sounded right. It sounded pure.

I tied my shoes whilst donning my pajamas. I ventured out into the cold ("Dammit, my name's not Robert!"). Yes, blog and song writing, fueled by the fires of McCafe. Dammit . . . it was perfect.

I looked at the time. 10:16. Fourteen minutes left on the breakfast menu. Thoughts of "Big Daddy" permeated my skull.



It was a race against time. I didn't want to be in the same disappointed shoes I've come to loathe time and time again as I walked up to the counter as they rotated the menu. "Do you by any chance have any leftover McMuffins of any sort?" "No sir, we've moved on to lunch, now."

Which begs the question: why can't McDonald's have an anytime breakfast menu? They know the specialness of their breakfast, the secret lust of biscuits and sausage, hashbrown sticks and coffee/orange juice. 10:30 is too early to stop breakfast. All I'm asking is for a little bit of a grace period, much like landlords and rent. Yeah, the first of the month is when the rent's due, but it's not technically a problem until the 5th. Why can't breakfast "stop" at 10:30, but be available for any latecomers until 11:30 or 12:00? Or, stop breakfast at actual lunch time, which is 11:30. 10:30 for lunch, are you kidding me?! Yeah, for old people, but your young adults are getting up on the weekend at that time, man. Brunch is the new breakfast. And if I happen to be on a lunch break at that time, fuck, I wouldn't mind having breakfast for lunch. Breakfast food is more awesome than lunch food, anyway. Why McDonald's, why?

This stream of consciousness clouded my skull as I traversed the slick, icy streets of Northeast. I looked at my gas. Way below E. DAMN! Look at the phone for the time. DAMN! 10:23. I stopped for gas.

It was like Smokey and the Bandit, cat and mouse, a race against time that became ever more seminal with each passing second. I ran to put the nozzle into my fuel tank. The pump stopped shortly after I put it into the automatic shut off mode. No. NO! Time: 10:25. Damn the automatic, go manual, you fool! Press!!!! $20 worth. GO! Yeah, good thinking, no receipt. Drive off. 10:26. DRIVE!!!

Round the corner into the Quarry area. Golden Arches on the horizon. The sweet aroma of plastic-like buns and french fries entered my nose. Don't taunt me with your lunch, you Siren! I crave biscuit.

I cut someone off in the other lane, plowed into the drive-through and ordered a number 3, hoping I wouldn't be met with a lunch number 3. A Sausage McMuffin. Lord, I could taste it already. McCafe as well.

I ordered at 10:29. I prayed.

I got to the pick up window. They handed me my food. I looked into the bag.

SWEET HEAVENLY BLISS I GOT A SAUSAGE MCMUFFIN!!!

I drove home in a fit of happiness. I sang a song of wanting to eat pure grease.

I parked, entered my home. I unwrapped my McMuffin, sipped my coffee. Turned on YouTube to watch One Day as a Lion, and bit into my sandwich.

Something wasn't right. Something was missing. I looked.

THEY FORGOT TO PUT THE SAUSAGE ON THE SANDWICH!!!!!

The goddamn pursuee got away . . .



Creedence Clearwater Revival -- "Commotion"