3

Things were going terribly in Iraq, but much worse for me at McDonald's. I couldn't figure out what I wanted. Not only that, there was nobody in line. I had to look like a jackass for an interminable period. Finally, I ordered Chicken McNuggets, specifically because of mad cow disease. This was my special night out, after all. I wasn't about to have it ruined by worrying over the avian flu.

I sat in the corner with my back to the wall, like the time I lost my virginity. I was oppressed by the sun. It was shining directly on my meal. I would have moved but I didn't want to want to give up my station. It was a prime vantage point over the whole place. The reason why I wanted a prime vantage point was so I could assess any employment opportunities, should they arise. Only I couldn't see too many employment opportunities on account that the goddam sun was shining all over my food. I would have put my sunglasses back on but I had already eaten a fry; I had laid my glasses on the napkins because I didn't want them to touch the table. Finally I discovered that by using the condensation from my soda I could clean my hands and emerge from this impossible quandary. But that was only much later, after the ice had started to melt.