The Happy-Mealer

The human brain is comprised of billions of brain cells, or neurons.   These cells interconnected in a complex way that we can barely begin to understand.  They constantly send and receive the electrochemical signals that control how we breathe, how we move, and how we think.

Sometimes I wonder:  what would all these electrochemical signals sound like, if we could hear them?

When I see smart people, aware of their surroundings, alert and responsive,  I imagine their neurons firing off quickly, like a high-speed metronome:    Tick-tick-tick, tick-tick-tick.   That’s what they’d sound like, as the electrical signals spark across their synapses.

Then you get slower people, with dull eyes, and slack jaws, who aren’t quite all there.  And I imagine their neurons firing slightly slower.   Tick….tick….tick.   Tick….tick….tick.

And then you get the Happy Mealers.

And they’re in a whole category all by themselves.

What in God’s name, is a Happy-Mealer, you might ask?

Well, let me explain.

Happy Mealers are the morons who frequent fast-food establishments everywhere, often with one or more kids in tow,  who hold up the line and make our lives miserable.

Not that there’s anything wrong with parents taking their kids to McDonald’s or Burger King.

But Happy-Mealers are kind of “Special”.

You see, these unfortunate souls are “Burger-Challenged”.    They might be otherwise normal productive members of our society.   But as soon as they enter a restaurant, they lose all cognitive abilities.

They become a few fries short of a Happy Meal, so to speak.

(Hence the name).

I was stuck behind one of these at a local Burger King recently.

I was in a rush to get a few quick burgers.   My neurons were going: Tick-tick-tick.  Friar’s hungry.  Must order food. Tick-tick-tick.

But when I approached the counter, and I saw the spherical-shaped woman ahead of me, I knew I was screwed.

Because she was smiling in confusion and pondering the menu.

That’s how you detect them.

You see, Happy Mealers get CONFUSED at menus.   They might have been to the same fast-food joint dozens of times, but their poor neurons can’t remember this.

It’s like there’s no tribal knowledge, or recall of what Burger King is.  Or what they sell,  Or what a hamburger even is.

They might as well be reading the menu for the first time ever, in a foreign language.

I could almost hear the Happy-Mealer’s neurons reluctantly fire (Tick…(pause)…Tick) as she asked:

“Uhhh……Let’s see…..Uhhhh……I’ll have the cheeseburger meal?    Do you sell…COKE?”

Tick…(pause)…tick.

In typical Happy-Mealer fashion, she had her litter with her.   The Lesser-Primates were tugging at her sweat pants, nagging at her.

“Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!…”

This only confused her even more, and she continued to ponder:

“Uhhhh……Uhhhh…..What about the kids meal combo….do you have…CHEESEBURGERS?   Uhhhhhh…..What kind of toys are there?    What is a mustard?   French…FRIES? ”

Lady, did it ever occur to you to what you want to eat BEFORE coming up to the counter?

(No, of course not.   That’s against the Happy-Mealer Rules.)

The teeny-bopper cashier wasn’t much help.   Not exactly a Rocket Scientist, she was.   Her own neurons were having a hard enough time dealing with the situation.

The Ritalin-Children continued their Mummy-Mummy Assault.

Meanwhile, I was starving, and ready to explode.

Tick-tick-tick.  Friar wants FOOD, NOW. Tick-tick-tick.

At this point, the Happy-Mealer attempted to place multiple food orders.    Each of them difficult, of course.

(Happy-Mealer By-Law  #102(b) dictates:  GOD FORBID, should your little darlings eat something directly off the menu.   No, you must cater to their every minor preference, and make the food order as COMPLICATED AS POSSIBLE).

Tick…(pause)….Tick.

“Uhhhhh…I’ll have a Hamburger Kids Meal with juice, no, not juice, but orange.   But with two-thirds ice.  Uhhh….And with half a pickle.     Uhhh….. what kid of COKE do you sell?   Is it carbonated?    I’ll have a water, no make that a coke with half-ice.   Uhhhh….And a cheese…..Uhhhh….No, wait…..What kind of restaurant is this again?”

(“Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!”)

Several torturous minutes passed like this, with repeated attempts to place an order, only to be aborted, and re-started.   Again, and again.

At that point, the Rocket Scientist chimed in (tick…tick…tick) :

“What kind of toy do you want with the kids meals? ”

“UHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”.

Tick…(pause)….Tick………..Tick….KACHUNK!

(Houston, we have a problem).

The Happy Mealer couldn’t process this additional information.    Her thought process ground to a halt.

“UHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”.

The Happy-Mealer and the Rocket-Scientist stood facing each other, motionless, not saying anything.

Time stood still.

And the Universe screamed in pain.

After what seemed like an eternity, I detected a faint KACHUNK.

Suddeny, the rift in space-time was broken, and the Happy Mealer resumed:

“Uhhh……Let’s see…..Uhhhh……I’ll have the cheeseburger meal?    Do you sell…COKE?”

(ARRGHHHH!)

Screaming, I ran from the store.

But not before pulling Friar’s Patented Fast-Food Trick #1.

You see, burger joints tend to give preference to lazy customers who won’t get off their arse and walk.

So I got into my car, and went through drive-through.

They took my order instantly.

And within minutes, I had a bag of greasy fast-food, which I promptly brought back into the store, and started eating.

Meanwhile, the Happy Mealer (I kid you not) was STILL PLACING HER FOOD ORDER!

(Euthanasia, at this point, should have been recommended).

She glanced my way, puzzled and somewhat annoyed.   How come I had my food before she did?

Well, it helps if you can read and write.

Oh, and also, if your IQ is greater than double-digits.

But don’t’ feel too bad for her.

She has a great career ahead of her, as a Lottery Bat.

Explore posts in the same categories: Friar's Grab Bag, Small Town Ontario

Tags: Burger King, Fast-Food, humor, McDonald's, rant, Screaming Kids

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