Hi “McDonald’s”, if that’s even your real name. Oh sure, I’ll have the usual. Yes, I’ll have fries with that. Why not? Why, I’ll even add an apple pie for only 99 cents. But say, McDonald’s: what’s that you’ve got in the back there, hmm? Over there, the thing that looks like a caulk gun that you’ve been using to pump load after load of thick, off-white mayonnaise onto the top bun of the McChickens. Oh ho, I’m not ALLOWED to see it up close?
No more secrets, McDonald’s. No more lies. I’ve seen the mayonnaise gun. I know all about it, and I’m going to steal it.
Did you really think you could keep the mayonnaise gun hidden from me? From the public? Exactly how long were you planning on keeping such revolutionary condiment tech under wraps, leaving your loyal customers pawing at the ketchup pump like peasants at a well? The game ends today, because I’ve woken up to your subterfuge. Like a fast food Robin Hood, I’m going to steal the mayonnaise gun, and, after a period of personal use and exploration, I’m going to show everyone.
I guess it just never crossed your minds that the public might want a gun that squeezes an unbroken snake of creamy, eggy mayonnaise onto the foods of our choosing, huh? I guess you just thought that because you’re number one in the burger game, you had the right to deny the world access to a mayonnaise delivery system that would cast the pitiful days of smearing mayonnaise with a spoon into the history books. For shame, McDonald’s.
Man will not be truly free until all have a mayonnaise gun of their own. I cannot wait to see the look on your faces when you realize that the mayonnaise gun is gone, and that the friendly mayonnaise gun repairman who took it was not in fact sent by corporate, but rather was me in disguise the whole time. It’s a moment I’ll savor almost as deeply as I do the taste of mayonnaise.
Until then, I’ll give you a dollar to let me shoot it into my mouth, just once. C’mon, once.