Well, to tell you the truth, the craziness had begun when we started ordering. I had him order for me, as I said, two beef Baja chalupas. I saw the look on her face after we ordered; it was one of those confused looks that seem to speak the words “What are you, an idiot??” But what she really said is “We don’t carry those here.”
This indeed had shocked both of us, and so I asked, “What do you mean? You guys don’t make them anymore?”
“No,” she replied. “We’ve never made them, this is McDonalds.”
“McDonalds?!” I nearly shouted but my newfound Mexican friend stopped me before I could make a fool of myself.
“McDonalds.” He stated in a very calm and intellectual tone, “This is quite a mix up. Well then what day is it?” Wednesday she replied, starting to have a bit of an upset tone. “Well then my dear, do you not have thirty-nine cent cheeseburgers today?”
“Yes, we do.” She said a bit sharply.
At this point I closed my eyes and put my hands against the counter. And as their somewhat lengthy dialogue began I started “using my powers.” During this particular meditation I was messing with sound. I would listen to the sounds in the building as if in layers, switching between layers and thereby picking up all sounds in the compound—
“So that will be 3.78 for 9 cheeseburgers.” This statement brought me back. Something wasn’t right with those numbers. Let me see, 3 times 3 is 9, and there are two of us…but no, 4+4 is 8. So you can’t divide 9 cheeseburgers between 2 people, it just isn’t done. That would be like, if we were to have 7, one would have to have 3 and the other 4, and with chaheads it’s all about equality. Any who, my friend was very confused.
“Huh?” was all he could get out until I finished my reasoning and finally said, or rather asked:
“Why would we need 9 cheeseburgers?”
“Yeah.” He said nodding his head at me.
“I just thought you guys would like an extra one.” She said (rather stupidly if you ask me).
“But how much is it for eight?” asked my Mexican friend.
“That would be 3.36.”
“But I only had 3.50 in the first place!”
“So, how could I get nine?”
I’m going to tell you right now, I don’t know what happened next. I don’t really remember leaving the place. The only thing I do know is that we ended up walking down some busy street with an ever-decreasing bag of eight cheeseburgers.
Now it was time for the lull in the conversation to stop. “So…you don’t really look Mexican, you know that?” I stated.
“Yeah,” he said squinting his eyes. “That’s because I’m not Mexican.”
Hmm…this was odd, he didn’t look Mexican, and now that I thougth about it he didn’t even really have a Mexican accent, in fact, he didn’t have an accent at all. This was quite odd. “What was your name again?” I asked.
“Ryan, you jackass!”
“That doesn’t sound like a Mexican name.” I realized it as I said it.
“That’s because it isn’t you bastard. Why do you have to always act like this? You’re such a bastard.”
“Oh, I’m sorry man, I really thought you were Mexican! These burgers taste like crap.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“They use to taste good. Back in the olden days.”
“Yeah, what has ever happened to those good, wholesome, olden days?” Well, the most evident lesson we learned that day was that McDonalds is just not a good place to go when chaed. But that also brings up another strange point. How did we get there in the first place?
Now, this next part of my story is a bit confusing to me. That is, I’m not really sure if it happened the same night or not. All that I do know is that we were out going to get some ice cream and our friend Thomas and his friend Raff were with us too. I think it was Rite Aid that we had come to (you know, “It’s not just a store, It’s a solution”) and as we entered it and started looking around, we realized we could no longer hear Raff and Thomas.
Ryan looked around and said, “Where are they? Did they enter the store, weren’t they on the other side of the street?” He looked around in a mockingly frantic way.
“I dunno man, we better go look.” So we stepped outside of the store and walked around the parking lot looking for them.
“Man, if they left us that’s pretty messed up.” I was busy looking across the street as he said it but not so busy that I wasn’t able to hear that he was getting angry. And then it hit me:
“Didn’t they come in the store behind us?” We slowly looked at each other, then we walked up the big glass windows of the store and peered inside. It was Ryan who pointed them out and after about five minutes of us watching them he made the suggestion:
“Maybe we should go inside with them.” And so we did.