The McDonalds Effect: I’m Lovin’ It

Note: I sweated and strained to make every word of this perfect.

You may think that I’m mad, but I assure you I am not. What I’m about to tell you is the truth, every last word of it, no matter how insane or implausible it all sounds, I swear to you on my life that it’s all true. Just look at me, do I really seem to you to belong here? In this mental institution? I’m hardly a raving lunatic. I haven’t bitten off my tongue. I don’t bathe myself in my own waste. I’m just a regular guy, well, perhaps not regular, I am, after all, in the 99th percentile of IQ, that I also assure you is the truth.

I was tested as a child. Still I remember that day, when the doctors administered that test that would tell me of my destiny as one of the best and brightest that humanity had ever produced. It is not my intention to toot my own horn here, as they say, but only to tell you the God honest truth, to relay to you the facts as they are. I’m above all else a realist, where other people see only lies and comforting illusions I see the cold hard ugly truth of things and believe me that takes its toll, but being a genius, being a little bit smarter and brighter and more courageous than the average person, I have no other choice but to see the truth of things, I’m too principled to do otherwise.

In any event, as I was saying, I can still remember that fateful day when I was tested by the doctors. I was different from the other children, while they were playing childish games I was reading classic literature, like Frank Herbert’s magnum opus, Dune. Do you know it? In any event, needless to say, I was precocious to say the least, maybe a bit too precocious. Here I was expanding my mind and exploring the wide world of ideas, tinkering with computers, getting caught up in the intricacies of Oriental mythology and folk-stories like Dragonball Z, I think I frightened the other children a bit. I wasn’t like them, I was different, I hesitate to say better but…

My mother, before she died, (under mysterious circumstances I might add), loved to remind me of my first word: Monkey. I started speaking at only six weeks old, that’s how advanced I was, how ahead of the curve I was in terms of my intelligence and abilities. The IQ test simply confirmed what she had known for a long time, that my star was destined to shine brightest among all the geniuses of the intellectual firmament.

I digress however, we have a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time to do it in so we should press ahead.

I was sixteen, smack dab in the middle of my awkward teenage years. Unlike most kids my age I didn’t need to attend school, it would have been a waste of my time. Instead I decided to turn the world into my classroom, I decided to travel and see the sites, to get by on my superior skills and intellect. It was in Russia that I was first recruited into intelligence work, it turned out that both the CIA and the KGB had had their eyes on me for quite some time. I was a prize catch, the asset everyone wanted on their side. It seems that after my IQ test I had been placed on some short list as a promising candidate for intelligence work. Her name was Natasha, my CIA handler, she was Soviet double agent working for US intelligence and she approached me one day in a crowded public square while I was sitting on a bench reading manga.

“Do you have the time,” she asked.

I had seen enough spy movies to know that this was code. Surely it was no coincidence that this beautiful, leggy Russian woman would simply plop down next to me, on the very bench where I was sitting to ask me for the time. She was a professional, it was obvious, at least to me that was. I was being recruited, that much was certain, the only question in my mind was whether or not to accept her offer. Finally though, I made up my mind and answered with the appropriate response:

“When the seven Dragonballs are collected your wish will be granted.”

“What?”

And so our romance began. Her answer told me everything I needed to know. If you think this is all a bit implausible, that I’m making it up, don’t. Think about it, here I am, a young handsome genius, well read in Oriental literature and the classics of speculative fiction, a promising CIA recruit, how could Natasha not be attracted to someone of my impeccable credentials?

Over the next few weeks I would often meet up with Natasha at the designated safe-house. “Leave me alone,” she would say when I showed up at her door, which in those days was standard code informing me that I had a new mission assignment waiting for me at the drop location, a simple unassuming McDonalds. I would walk in, order a Fish Fillet and inside the delicious, warm patty would be my mission, which I would have to dig out without attracting too much attention to myself. How the briefings got in there I don’t know, the CIA must have had somebody on the inside, I knew better than to ask questions.

One day however everything went sideways, the drop point was compromised, it was a set up, the police were called and I had no other choice but to seek refuge at Natasha’s. I broke in, as any good spy would and waited for her, in the dark, to return home so that I might finally get the answers I sought. Who was I? Was I the product of CIA genetic experiments to create a new line of hyper-intelligent sociopathic genius agents?  Who was really behind this set-up, what dark forces were working behind the scenes to destroy my promising career as the next Jack Ryan. Finally, after what seemed like hours of waiting Natasha at last returned home. I heard her slot her key into the lock and slowly enter. What happened next is something that despite my massive intellect I would have never suspected in a thousand years. When she flicked on the lights and saw me sitting there she let out a loud piercing scream, she clearly hadn’t been expecting me… Natasha was the one who set me up… I couldn’t believe it.

So I ran, I did what any CIA agent does when he gets burned, I went underground. For the past twenty years I’ve been investigating and digging up dirt, following every lead to determine the true identity of the sinister forces working within the CIA and US Government that set me up.

It took years but finally I got a lead on the culprit. I was thinking to myself one day, pondering, as I listened to my ipod and ate some delicious McDonalds, could it be that there was a force, an entity, greater than the CIA, or the KGB, or the US Government even? Could there be something above even those powerful institutions working through them in a dastardly conspiracy to control the world? Then it hit me, McDonalds, of course! I had been so stupid. It all became clear to me in a single instant, a fleeting moment of clarity and profound insight: McDonalds wasn’t merely a restaurant, no… it was an entity, a living being, a force possessing of its own appetites and aims. I can only speculate as to its exact history and origin, if I had to venture a guess I would say that McDonalds was one of the Eldar Gods of lore, from beyond the limits of outer space.

Obviously Natasha had been part of a secret cult within the CIA and US Government that worshiped McDonalds. I did what any genius secret agent would have done with this information, I started burning down McDonaldses. That’s when I got caught and locked up in this institution. Don’t believe what they say, that I’m mad, that I’m off my rocker, that I’ve gone completely and utterly nuts, I’m quite in my right mind, believe me. It’s all a set up, they’re trying to bury me, they’re trying to cover up their nefarious scheme! It’s all a lie though! Don’t listen to them! Don’t list-