Dastardly McDonalds

Oh reader, lament with me. Lament and repent because more than a few of you have been in this compromising position before.

A brief interlude: 12:15 Saturday night - you've just left the Horseshoe Tavern with your roommate. You turn right out the entrance to catch the Spadina streetcar up to the subway station on your way to North York, where you live for some reason. Wait, what time is it?

- ..Quel temps fait-il?
- Isn't that french for what's the weather?
- Yeah temps sounds more like time..
- Alright.. the time is -
- Wait shut up. Oh shit.

You half stumble half drag your way a few metres forward.

- McDonalds.

Your vegetarian roommate grimaces.

- Oh dude, come on.

But it's far too late. You even try and dig your heels in as some unseen force drags you toward the location.

- Oh god they've got me in their tractor beam. Nothing can stop it now, save yourselves!
* You always regret this.

But then the third member of your party shows up, zipping up his jacket at the same time he emits a thunderous belch.

- What the hell are you doing?

And you try and stop him.

- No bro! Get back, don't even look!

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. He's embraced his decision.

- Come on man, McDonalds!

And without another word he wobbles in the direction of the McDonalds, leaving you in the dust open mouthed and confused.

- ..Oh fuck it.

Quickly followed by a mad, ill-advised dash to catch up with your companion, once again (easily) peer pressured into a horrible indulgence.

When you arrive at home you realize you've ingested three double cheeseburgers, a medium order of fries and a medium coke. All for under ten dollars! Was it worth it?

As the "food" claws every inch of your intestinal tract on the way down you remember that it isn't. It really, really isn't. Ah the Golden Arches.. placed all too conveniently at a location near you! Preying on the drunk and stoned since the 40's.

At least I can say I tried to warn you.