Man, I hate that Mayor McCheese and his butt-kissing lackey, Officer Big Mac! They walk around like they own McDonaldland, and I sure don’t remember electing either of them!
Plus, they’re always lockin’ up my man, Hamburglar! Why is that? I send Hamburglar out to score and . . . bam! . . . Officer Big Mac slaps on the cuffs, and then that old blowhard Mayor McCheese tosses Hamburglar in jail, and I’m left at home with a Burger Jones and some Shakes. And not the tasty chocolate or vanilla kind, either, you know what I mean?
Plus, then they come around and expect me to drag myself down to the jail to make bail for Hamburglar! I mean, how am I gonna make bail if I can’t score any burgers to push? They know I’d give ’em a cut if they’d just look the other way, but they’re too greedy for that! It’s all about the bottom line, and making poor ol’ Ronald McChronic have to go back out to the Hamburger Patch to pimp the Fry Kids out, so I can make enough scratch to get by.
Those poor little taters. I shudder every time I see Captain Crook hobbling out to the Patch with a greasy bag of Filet o’ Fish sandwiches to trade for a little something something salty.
I tell you, one of these days, I’m gonna send Evil Grimace out to off those two pompous, big-headed fools. Then there’ll be a new Sheriff in McDonaldland, Officer Ronald McChronic at your service, sir! What’s that you say? You don’t want to pay Officer McChronic a cut on those McGriddles you’re peddling? Slap! On with cuffs! Bam! Into the clink! And no bail for you and your kind, hell no to that, I say! You can just lie there in your own grease under the heating lamps until I’m good and ready to kick you back out onto the curb.
Yeah, that’ll be the day. I can’t wait.
But, uh, until then, can you spot a clown a Happy Meal?