Last week I bought one of your happy meals for both of my children. I know that your food is disgusting and unnatural, and the girl at the window looks suspiciously like she may eat boiled frogs and lizard biscuits for breakfast. But, hey… who gives a damn? We’ve come to expect nothing less from you.
The toys? The carbs? The creepy, metro-updated, eighties clown? God knows why my children have this enigmatic propensity toward consuming your mystical products. They’ve just gotta have those gosh darned happy meals, and who am I to deny them?
We ordered our “food”, paid the toothless girl at the window who only had hair on one side of her head, and subsequently received our products at the second window from the mustached man who, unlike the girl in your commercials, was digging inside one of his chin folds trying to locate an irritating pimple.
Having satisfied our purposes, away we went. What joy shown on my children’s faces as they opened their little red boxes cleverly adorned with presumptuous smiley faces.
Twas a scene reminiscent of my own happy meal loving days, as my son pulled the little plastic sealed and fine print loaded toy from the smiling red box.
That’s when it happened. “WTF?!!?”, cried my son as he unwrapped his new toy. Keeping in mind that daddies are supposed to have answers to these kinds of questions, I took the little piece of plastic from my son’s hand and gave it a close inspection. “Son, that’s a… well, that’s a good question”, I said. “What’s This For, you ask? I haven’t a clue. Perhaps we’ll keep it around and see if some practical purpose emerges over the next couple of weeks”.
The thing looked like a rocket with a mohawk growing out of a big green boil, and it had a cat’s eyeball on the front. Clearly this toy was loaded with an array of features, all of which wreaked confusion on my little son’s analytical mind.
Taylor believed that it would be worth trying “The Thing” out as a computer mouse. I supposed it was as good a guess as any other. It may have worked had my computer had a bluetooth option.
Hoping to find some good use for the device, I took it with me to work one day. Truly, I had high hopes for a discovery of some practical function, but those were quickly dashed when I couldn’t find any “on” button. Plus, playing around with that thing on the job site wasn’t doing a thing for my professional image.
I have to tell you, we had all given up on ever finding a purpose for this ridiculous and quite ugly little shape. We had given up, that is, until…
Taylor put the rocket shaped end of your stupid happy meal toy in her mouth… and she laughed. The sound that followed startled everybody in the room. Why, it was a microphone!!! I mean, really? Really?!!?
So, McDonalds, I leave you with my own WTF with regard to your happy meals this Christmas season. Because, really, Where is it? Where’s The Fun?