I was slouched on my couch in a heroin induced stupor listening to Ryan Cabrera's "40 Kinds of Sadness" on a loop, when I was almost hit with brick that had been tossed through my window. The Hamburglar picked it up and showed me the note attached to it.
"There's a new King in town, Mayor!"
Needless to say, I was none too pleased. I put in a call to Officer Big Mac. Within 24 hours, he'd brought in a bruised and battered King. His plastic face was partially melted off.
"Who rules Barter Town?" I said.
"Mayor McCheese rules Barter Town," he said faintly.
"I can't hear you, shitfuck. Who rules Barter Town?"
"Master Blaster, I mean Mayor McCheese rules Barter Town."
"That's what I thought. Ron, give him the works."
Ron Gorske (sp?), noted Big Mac aficionado, came in with one of McDonald's famed sandwiches. I snapped my fingers, and the Hamburglar started a record player with the Big Mac theme song. The King screamed.
"Is this a good idea, Mayor?" Ron said. "I mean, why make him eat a Big Mac, when I'll eat it willingly?"
"With all do respect, you don't make those kinds of decisions, Ron. Now feed the King."
At first he rebelled, but eventually he understood: the Big Mac just simply rules. The Whopper can't compete. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about anymore bricks through my window from that fucker in the near future.
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