Old Guys At McDonald’s

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

Ted used to brag about dodging the draft. Talked about jerking off in front of the draft board. Showing up off his ass on LSD. Went up to Quebec. Joined the Hell’s Angels in Montreal. Fucked girls whether they liked it or not.

Ted hung around the McDonald’s, all day. I used to work the fry machine, while Habib did the counter and Chris made burgers. Chris used to laugh his ass off at Ted’s shit; talking about he and the guys from Ultimate Spinach used to get mad pussy.

I went to college.

After I left McDonald’s, I heard Chris moved to Texas and became a social worker. Habib’s family were pretty rich; he went to Georgetown and became an attorney.

After school, I moved to Chicago and worked in a recording studio. Met the guys in Second City. Met Chris Farley and Del Close. They were both very nice to me.

I came back for Thanksgiving, this year.

The flight got in way early in the morning. 6AM and I hadn’t eaten a thing.

What the fuck, I’d eat at the old McDonald’s on the way to my parents’ place.

Ted was there. 7AM and Ted was there. He had a long white beard, now. Sunglasses. Some kind of weird bush hat. Fatigues. Combat boots. He was griping to the dude across the table.

That dude was pushing 300 lbs, easy. Ted and he were going off the candy asses, these days, shooting each other in Ferguson when they couldn’t last a day in boot camp.

The fat guy kept referring to his time ‘special forces.’ Ted mentioned that he couldn’t join The Green Berets on account of his asthma.

I hate hippies.

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