When I woke up, at the age of 9 years old in a bathtub overflowing with double-thick chocolate milkshake, I should of known something was awry. But I guess when a kid is busy slurping down bottomless McShakes and shoveling handfuls of McFries down his throat, he doesn’t ask a whole lot of questions. Why my family deserted me, and how I got in that bathtub is anyone’s guess.
Parents don’t always know how their kids are going to turn out. Raising a child is not as easy as buying a Happy Meal. So it’s not surprising to me that my parents left me in the dumpster behind the local McDonald’s. You’d probably think I’d be upset about being deserted by my family, but I thought I was lucky. Grimace, after all, was my new Dad.
The first few years, with Grimace as my new dad were pretty great. The other kids in the neighborhood were incredibly jealous. Grimace was a big deal in those days.
Some of the kids I went to school with called him fat, but I didn’t mind Grimace’s obesity, as I’d put on an extra hundred or so pounds since he rescued me from the dumpster. “I’m just supersized,” he’d always say, then remind me a Big Mac has extra layers, and everyone loves Big Macs. Even the President of the USA. Dad didn’t need to reassure me though, there are no consequences to eating Big Macs and Quarter Pounders everyday that wouldn’t make it worth while. I mean, most of my friends begged and pleaded with their parents to get McDonalds. Me? I ate it everyday.
On my 16th birthday, while other teenagers were getting their learners permit, Dad shaved and dyed me purple. What did I need to drive for? The McDonald’s was right down the street. Besides, the thought of being the next Grimace was exhilarating. At the time, I couldn’t imagine a better profession. But times change.
Sure, there were some tough times, like when the McDLT was discontinued, or everytime the McRib went back into hiding, but it wasn’t until recently, with the decline in work for my Dad, that things started getting out of hand. His attempt to find a new job in McDonald’s politics and run for mayor was a considered a joke, and McCheese beat him by a landslide. Even the Fry Kids laughed at him. He always blamed Ronald. He cursed the clown everyday. Ronald, the only one of the original gang still getting steady work. My Dad said Ronnie sold out. Forgot where he came from. Forgot who his friends were.
Not long after that, Dad started staying out later, going to the strip club with Hamburglar to see Birdie dance, then coming home drunk at 4am and mixing whiskey into his milkshakes. “Now that,” he’d say, “is a Shamrock Shake.”
Things got worse from there. Dad was caught talking to The Burger King and was immediately fired. To this day, I don’t know what they were talking about. Plotting to eliminate Ronnie was and still is my guess. From then on, the rest of the gang stopped returning his calls. Even The Hamburglar. They said he’d gone too far.
Three weeks later, Grimace, my father, who rescued me from a dumpster and raised me as his own, fell to his death from the top of the golden arches. Police said it was suicide, but I think Ronnie was behind it. Grimace was survived by his one son. Me. And I vow to make things right. I vow to make Ronnie pay, because Grimace was my Dad. I loved him.