Stanley pulled into the ninth McDonald’s drive through that day, praying to God that they had their ice cream machine working.
“Welcome to McDonald’s, would you like to try our new McRibs Sandwich?” Said the bored voice over the speaker box.
Stanley rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t eat the shit they sold here if someone paid him. But his mate was pregnant with his pups, and wanted a damn McFlurry, and he was going to get a McFlurry if he had to drive all over the state to get one.
“Is your ice cream machine working?” He called, crossing his fingers. If this McDonald’s didn’t have McFlurries, he would have to drive another twenty minutes to the next town over to get one.
“Yes, sir. What would you like?”
“Oh thank God!” Stanley laughed. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he would do anything to make Esmer happy and comfortable. Especially since the man refused to actually ask for anything. “I need a Rolo McFlurry, the biggest size you have. Please.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir -” fuck! “But we’re out of Rolos to make that. Can I get you an M’n’M or an Oreo McFlurry, instead?”
“No, thank you anyway.” Driving off, Stanley called Esmer. He hated McDonald’s. Maybe he’d be ok with having a concrete mixer from Culver’s, or a shake from Steak ‘n’ Shake, or even a Blizzard from Dairy Queen?