RED
going to mcdonald’s
be there soon
:-)
_
maybe
mayb
may
ma
m
_
GREEN
I tossed my phone to the passenger seat, which instead dove to the floorboard, strong and graceful, like an Olympic diver, undoubtedly lengthening the crack that splintered through its face.
The setting sun stretched its tired arms as far as it could, dancing on its fiery toes, still barely able to cast its warm pink light over the treetops, now cloaked in shadow. My phone was now in shadow too, rattling alongside dirt and crumbs in a blanket of black- completely and blissfully useless.
At the next light, I considered pulling it from the void but decided to let it rest and turned up the radio instead. The volume button, sticky with Mountain Dew and drug store perfume, stayed down, egging the sound, swallowing me whole. The gritty speakers pulsed in tandem with the rapid stutter of my heartbeat and called out the old flame of feeling truly alive.
Breathing.
I let it wash over me, the cold chaos, and screamed until fat ink drops flooded my vision. My hands clenched so tight against the steering wheel that my knuckles shone through my skin like wet pearls.
I hate this. But we all have our vices.
If you could look past the unnerving uncertainty of life and stare into the burning eyes of what is absolute, wouldn’t you take a peek, sit hand in hand over a cup of tea and let it read the leaves to you?
Sometimes, it feels unfair that I get to skip the regret and heartache and grief, but I am far too sensitive to live like the others. Perhaps, that’s why I was gifted this.
As I accelerated through a turn, the sticky summer air whipped against my face, teasing my hair and funneling the smell of McDonald’s french fries through the car. Like the thick smell of the ocean that greets you while you’re still miles away from the beach, the smell of artificial coconut still fresh against the car seats, the smell of canola oil let me know that I was close to getting my answer. For the moment, I was the cat in the blissful in between. Like the dreamlike restless tranquility that you feel in an airport, time does not pass here, and I do not care how much of it is artificially expended in order for me to make this decision.
I felt akin to my phone on the floor.
Undoubtedly, they’ve texted me back, probably confused but couldn’t know the ulterior motive of my McDonald’s trip. As much as they try to, they don’t know me like that. They damn the coffee grounds to the trash before I get the chance to greet them good morning and read the meanings behind my dreams. They ask why I cry at the sight of roadkill and bury birds in the backyard.
If they understood me, they wouldn’t have asked me to marry them. They would have told me to- held me down and told me that they needed me more than sunlight. I shouldn’t have been given the option to say no. The existence of yes and no indicates right and wrong. Pleasure and pain. Satisfaction and regret.
The option to get hurt, which I cannot stand.
But they don’t see me.
As long as I sent and received messages, they didn’t care. Perhaps, nobody did. After all, where does all of the outdated and malfunctioning technology go? Some landfill in a country far too beautiful for it to die in.
When my phone dies, I think I’ll keep it.
I wonder if anyone will keep me when I die.
I wonder if I want anyone to.
They’d probably try to revive me in a bed of rice.
I’d rather die in a beautiful landfill.
Hark, the golden arches!
The sweeping beams of mustard yellow cast a heavenly glow through the dark of night. Next to it, the moon paled in comparison. A supernova next to a star.
I lined up behind a silver Subaru and waited.
A parishioner waiting to confess.
The eyes of God looking down on us as fluorescent lights.
I eased up on the brakes and crossed myself before approaching the booth.
“Can I please get a Big Mac, a large fry, and 10 nuggets with honey mustard?”
“Sure. That’s:
BIG MAC
LARGE FRY
MCNUGGETS (10 PIECE)
Can I get anything else for you?”
My mouth ran dry. The first trial. “Ummm, is the milkshake machine working?”
“Ummm, one moment.” The spectral voice muttered before leaving me alone with the humming static.
I wondered what I would do if it was broken. Find another McDonald’s? Go home to them? Run away? My knuckles felt as if they were about to burst through my flesh.
“Oh, yeah, it is.”
My hands slipped off of the steering wheel and floated down to my lap. I smiled into my shoulder, my hair sticking to my slimy teeth, and stifled a laugh. “Can I also get a large strawberry milkshake, then?”
BIG MAC
LARGE FRY
MCNUGGETS (10 PIECE)
LARGE STRAWBERRY MILKSHAKE
$27.86
In the in between again, I sighed and sank down into the plush foam seat, microscopic dust bunnies exploding from the old fabric to dance under the light. The crumbs and pebbles that had been sticking to my sweaty feet were now abundantly apparent, paining me as though they had inserted themselves under the very first layer of glassy onion skin. Far too shy to go any deeper.
I too preferred first base.
I saw the edges of my phone illuminate- a call that would be welcomed into my overflowing voicemail. I felt sorry that it was burdened still by the responsibilities that came with its existence and bent over to turn it off.
As I waited, I could feel myself grow increasingly sweatier under the fluorescent light of God’s eyes. The dust in the air made my throat itch and I wondered if the crumbs and pebbles would rot underneath my skin.
Finally, the Subaru dove back into the darkness and my time to be judged had come.
I grabbed the dewy paper bag, supple with grease, and slippery plastic milkshake and pulled up to park. The McDonald’s was to my back now, putting me in partial darkness. In two states of being, not quite one or the other.
My heartbeat, hot and fuzzy, fizzled up in my ears as I began to unwrap the truth. I first stuck my hand into the bag and gleefully clutched the limp french fries that were floating around the bottom of the bag, tickling my fingertips.
Bottom of the bag fries! A classic good omen- and my fry-carrier was full.
My cheeks burned with adrenaline as I grabbed the Big Mac, delicately slipping it out of its thin yellow dress. When I first started searching for the constellations in sesame seeds, it took me months of Big Macs until I had my first vision, but it was absolutely electrifying.
I ran my fingers over the bun first, taking in every detail of the surface, my fingertips lingering on each seed. Next, I leaned over it, examining it like a piece of pointillism, the acidic smell of pickles and ketchup burning my nose.
I looked and looked again, this time testing the adhesive of each seed to the bun. Some flew off and others clung to the bread with deep loyalty.
A vague read. Just my luck.
The number of sesame seeds sitting atop the bun was underwhelming, too, varying between identities, but, on closer inspection, the overall formation was entirely different… Not vague, not unsure of itself, but rather interspersed in a lively and torturous noise. Very chaotic. Unnerving.
Finally, the nuggets. I cracked open the box and counted twelve, yes, twelve nuggets!
Two extra nuggets was an extraordinarily good sign.
Perhaps, I would live my life sending and receiving messages, eating my IOS updates with butter on the side like a good girl. They would be sitting across the table from me taking photos from afar.
Maybe I would like that.
I reached for the sauce-
BIG MAC
LARGE FRY
MCNUGGETS (10 PIECE)
LARGE STRAWBERRY MILKSHAKE
HONEY (1)
MUSTARD (1)
*THE SEMI-FUNCTIONING PRESS IS NOT SPONSERED BY MCDONALD’S AND DOES NOT SUPPORT BUSINESSES THAT SUPPORT GENOCIDE*
FUCK MCDONALD’S
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