the McDonald’s mating dance ritual is when you go to McDonald’s and like a predator, like a hound toothed sexual predator, you scope out the trashiest, thickest assed milf you can find, preferably one wearing spandex pants that are so tight you can see the color and shape of her panties. Once you’ve identified her, approach cautiously and walk around her in a counterclockwise fashion (but always mindful that you’re facing mecca) with your hands on your hips (think: fat flamboyant but sassy gay black guy). Walk around her in a circle like this for 5 minutes. If she hasn’t called the police yet, go behind her, drop to your knees, grab her hips and shove your face DEEP into her ass. Once your nose is firmly planted near her asshole, proceed to take deep, huge, greedy breaths of air. If she farts on your face while you’re doing this, then congrats! she has accepted you as a suitable mate. Go to the cashier and ask for the Manager, Cedric. For a nominal fee of $666 he will grant you a marriage certificate, full SNAP benefits and one complimentary session at the St. Obama Fertility Center of the People’s Republic of New York.
At McDonalds I get a big mac value meal with diet coke, a four piece nuggets plus one additional big mac. The cashier is a pale Muslim girl, chubby and cute, and I imagine she’s a model student, hard worker and probably has a hairy pussy and I wonder what it smells like, if it smells bad, like rotten onions, or when was the last time she took a shower or a shit and what color panties she has on and if they’re silky or sweaty or shitty or stinky as she bags my fries and asks me what sauce I want for my nuggets. “Uhmmmmm, is there a teriyaki one?” knowing full well there fucking isn’t . She says as much so I say, “I guess I’ll take a barbecue, then” as I smile at her, fake defeated, and she smiles back, obligatorily, while blinking her bushy eyebrows, a set of chubby young tits hidden behind her hideous McDonald’s uniform blouse.
She says ‘we’re just waiting on your macs, sir’ and for me to step down to the side so she can take the next order and as I stare at her I imagine us having rough sex, tearing holes in her uniform, in her pants, and then fucking her through the holes as she slaps and laughs at me and I start to get a hard on so I take out my phone and go on Instagram and look at pictures of puppies, dank memes, anything to make my hard on go away until finally she says, “here you are, sir,” and I grab my food and diet coke abruptly and stalk back off to the car.