Mayor McCheese: Burger Con... Um, nope

After the success of the King's underground marketing campaign, Ronald's gotten nervous. He's afraid we'll lose the Superfan, i.e. the 18-28 male demographic that eats Kit-Kats for lunch.

The problem here is two-fold. First, I should be the McDonald's answer to the King. With my stints on Conan and with the dude from Cobra Starship saying I was in his band, people still dig me. Unfortunately I'm unavailable due to the horrible Sid and Marty Kroft settlement. If McDonald's uses me in an official advertising capacity, they're done.

The second problem is that we aren't after the Superfans. They'll come to us regardless. We need the rest of them. We need the kids whose parents don't have time to cook dinner. We need the worker with a short lunch hour whose got no other option. We need the family coming home from a road trip whose stopping in to grab something to eat that's quick and right off the highway.

I brought up my concerns to Ronald and he laughed.

"You just don't get it, do you, Mayor?"

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.