McDonald Land

It won’t be long before the USA falls into the control of McDonalds, and Mexico becomes a thriving democracy. I see myself running to the Mexican border only to be stopped by our own Wall. A net is cast and I fall to the ground entangled in a red and yellow lace. “Get your filthy paws off me you damn dirty Clown.”

“Okay, Vince.” He says. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for this?”
My captor knows who I am. My whole life history flashes on the inside of his helmet visor, linked in from a database that joins the Global Tracking System (GTS) signal radiating from the implant in my brain. No DNA required although that data is available too. No need for an ID chip--just a simple GTS node and a unique personal frequency.

I am dressed in nothing but a black pair of bikini underwear. “Why are you dressed like that?” He says.
“Why are you dressed like a Clown, you over-weight Mayor McCheese wannabe.” I reply.
“Okay, we know you’ve been blowing your tokens on underground rabbit meat. Now all you got left to your name is a pair of black floss. What’s wrong with our McBunny sandwich? It tastes better than a real rabbit. “
“It does NOT you freaky brainwashed cartoon character! It tastes more like a nutty synthetic pork chop, you sick pufnstuf!”
“Now we know better than to talk offensively, don’t we? You’re already banned from McMilk Shakes. I’m afraid you just jeopardized your McChocobar privileges.”

I’m stunned. He knows McChocobar is my weakness. That scumbag. So I plead, “You can’t take that away. That’s the only real food you got. You can’t take that away.”
“Well, what can you give me to make me forget this little incident?”
“What do you mean? You know all I got left is this old pair of floss. What do you want? “
“I want you to tell me who sells you the rabbit meat, the EuroChino Union will be obliged to you.”
“But I’m no fink. I can’t rat out on the only family I got left.”
“The Corporation is your only family: Remember that.”
“Okay, okay. Just wait a minute. Okay, it’s John McCain, our president. He’s the one. And he has a Spanish girlfriend on the side.”
“What? Damn! This information is useless to me, McCain has immunity you know.”
I take a shot, “I’m useless to you too, believe me. Let me go. Let me go to Mexico.”
Then I hear the magic words, “Okay Vince. Go! Go find your freedom. And toss me over a burrito every now and then will ya? And don’t miss the McChocobars too much. They're made of recycled Starbucks coffee cup holders anyway.”

Suddenly a realization. “Bless you my son. I heard legends about you--a direct descendant of Jesus and Mary Magdelene. But how do you pass detection?”
“It’s the food.” He shrugs. “It has altered my DNA so I’m no longer traceable; but how did you know it was me?”
“I recognized your sandals.”

I climb over the wall into Mexico with the help of a well placed eucalyptus tree. I drop down and see some old graffiti. It depicts Bush shaking hands with Ronald McDonald. The beginning of the end…