Mayor McCheese: So There

What was I doing dating a stripper? Sure, they're all kinds of hot, but a little nutty too, if you know what I mean?

So anyway, I'm dating this chick named Neveah, heaven spelled backwards. At least that was her stripper name, which isn't bad for a stripper name. Her real name was Betty, I think, but it doesn't matter.

I had Ronald over the other day, because I needed to sign some papers. This was like noonish, and Neveah comes thundering in, telling me she needs me to get her an 8-ball toot sweet. Of course the whole thing was kind of embarrassing, because Ronald was there, and I hate it when he judges me.

I tried shooing her off, but she was too strung out to get the hint, and started screaming at me to not patronize her. I needed to do something quick. I threw a Rubik's Cube at her, hitting her above the eye, which caused her to fall back and hit her head on the corner of a table. Upon examination, I realized I'd killed her. I'd acted again without thinking. Ronald sighed.

"Another mess you need me to clean up for you, I guess."

I snapped my fingers, and Big Mac aficionado Ron Gorske and the Hamburglar wrapped the body up in plastic and set to work sanitizing the area.

"I should have this one under control," I said. So there.

Mayor McCheese: Big Mac Turns 40

1967. Not a bad year at all. Much better than 1968, if you ask most folks. I personally wasn't around then, and there was a good reason for that: my raison d'etre had not been created. The Big Mac.

The Big Mac, beyond being perfect as a burger, did more for fast food than any other invention, other than maybe the drive-thru. It is difficult to imagine myself, or my fellow McDonaldland citizens, including Ron Gorske, existing without it. It's also difficult to imagine Burger King, Wendy's, or Taco Bell having anywhere near the kind of success they've had without these two all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun.

In order to boost lagging car sales, GM invented a sense of patriotism around their brand, that, though moot due to the fact Chevys are now built in Mexico, caused many Americans to buy their cars over Toyotas or Hondas, which are built here. The reality is that the Big Mac, not the Chevy, is America in all its glorious, yet raunchy self. Toby Keith and Lee Greenwood can write all the songs they want, but nothing will ever tell the world America's story-- even better tell us America's story-- than that edible slice of Americana.

Go out an buy a Big Mac today, and know that that's what America is supposed to taste like.

Mayor McCheese: McDonaldland's Gay Club

Sometimes life in McDonaldland, especially when one is the Mayor, can be hectic. We need to let off some steam.

That's when I hit SuperSize Me, the neighborhood gay bar. I know what you're thinking, and perish the thought: I'm straight. But I can only dance to one kind of music, and that's Gay House. So I toss my suit and sash in the closet and throw on my designer jeans and form fitting T-shirt and let my bun down to the sounds of a house remix of "If I Can Turn Back Time".

The best is seeing Ron Gorske. He can't dance for shit.

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: The King vs. The Mayor: I Got This Shit

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.