Mayor McCheese: Our Coffee Rules

I've been hearing for quite some time now that our coffee at McDonald's was the bomb. I figured it was time I gave it a try. Boy, let me tell you, it was a nice slice of all right.

While I was waiting for them to ring my order, I heard a familiar voice humming the Pet Shop Boys' "What Have I Done to Deserve This?", which was playing overhead.

"Since you went away... I've been hanging around... I've been wondering why... I'm feeling down..."

"Moon Knight?"

I turned, but it was one of his alter egos, the cab driver guy. He put a finger to his lips. I nodded.

"I just came to get some of those cool Shrek glasses."

Mayor McCheese: What's in it For Me Moon Knight?

I was watching Kaui and Taquita with the Hamburglar and Big Mac aficionado Ron Gorske, when Moon Knight burst in and pulled his tough cop routine. I exhaled a bong hit in his face.

"Listen, Mayor," he said. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way."

I was ready for him this time. I pointed over to the other side of the room. Mac Tonight was performing "The Lady is a Tramp" on my piano. Moon Knight released his grip from my collar, and fell to his knees.

"God damn you!"

"That's right, Moony baby, McDonald's own-a La Luna. Why don't you guys kindly show Mr. Knight the door?"

"Robble Robble."

"No, wait. I came because I needed some information. I gotta find the Tuna Cutter. He's been hired to kill a close friend of mine, and I need to stop him."

"What's in it for me, Moony baby?"

"I have an autographed 45 of "Careless Whisper."

"By George Michael, or just the other guy?"

"Both."

"You got yourself a deal."

He went home and brought it back, so I played ball. The Tuna Cutter was catching an encore performance of Menopause: The Musical at the MacArthur Playhouse, and Moon Knight could find him there.

Mayor McCheese: Trouble Brewing in the Windy City

It all started when the Hamburglar came back to my crib in a sorry state. Someone had really worked him over. I asked him what happened.

"Robble... robble... robble... robble..."

There was a note attached to him. It said: "There's a new sheriff in town.", and it was signed with a crescent moon. I couldn't believe it.

I called in Officer Big Mac to gather information, and he confirmed my suspicions. That note was written by none other than Moon Knight. The crime fighter was back, and I knew there'd be hell to pay.

I couldn't have a vigilante like that threaten my criminal enterprises. I had Officer Big Mac find out when his alter ego, Jake Lockley, would be driving his cab. We needed to talk.

I didn't get the chance, though. He found out my plan to meet him and set up a trap for me. Before I could get into his cab, he was on me, beating me with his nunchuks. I thought I was a dead man, for sure.

He laid off me, though. He said something to the effect of "let this be a lesson to you", but I didn't really hear it. He had crushed my pince-nez, and could barely see him bound off. I passed out, and woke up on my couch, with Officer Big Mac looking over me.

"I guess we'll need a Plan B," I said.

You Are Not the Deepcheeks

I had this weird dream the other night. I was watching Maury, and it was your run-of-the-mill DNA test type deal. There was something not right about it, but in the dream, I found it to be completely normal. It was only when I woke up that I realized how odd it was.

Maury had this big black woman on his couch next to him.

"We're here with U God Sham God. U God Sham God, tell us your situation."

"Well, me and Keonton, we was cool at first. I mean, we slapped at that shit, you know what I mean."

The crowd oohed.

"Really, you slapped at that shit? When did things go sour?"

"Well, then he starts talkin' bout his Beetis, an' how my deepcheeks wasn't his, how he wasn't the deepcheeks."

"He was denying your deepcheeks?"

"Yes Maury. Look at them deepcheeks. Don't they look like his?"

It was a picture of Wilford Brimley. The crowd cheered in agreement.

"Well, here's what he had to say."

They cut to a clip of Kurt Rambis in his old Lakers uniform and his goggles. He was gesturing and making angry remarks. They'd cut to a shot of him with his arms crossed shaking his head, and then him dribbling the basketball kind of awkwardly. For some reason he was wearing black Chuck Taylors too.

"U God Sham God know them deepcheeks ain't mine," he said. "She had too many other guys for them to be mine. I ain't the deepcheeks. My boys tell me she was all up in some house with five guys at once, making a movie. Now how she gonna say they mine deepcheeks?"

"Let's bring him out, meet Keonton!"

It was Marvel comics superhero Moon Knight. He was waving at the crowd in a dissmissive manner as they booed him.

"I have the results right here. Keonton, in the case of U God Sham God, you are not the deepcheeks."

I found myself in the audience, then on the stage with Moon Knight. Unprovoked, he took a swing at me with one of his nunchuks, and I woke up. I tried to make sense of it as I went over it in my mind: you are not the deepcheeks. What did it mean? I considered going to a dream analyst, but then decided against it.