The other day when my twin brother Jared was eating his $2.99 extra value meal from McDonalds, he bit into a crunch. The crunch then grossed him out of eating, and I ate mine in peace because the odds were in my favor that I wouldn’t get a “crunch”burger too.
I’ve bit into the crunch before though, and dissected a chewed up mouthful and found the culprit, but I still don’t know what it is. I know it isn’t cheese, lettuce, or the bun, but how can meat be hard as stone? It looks tanish grey, and maybe it’s a piece of a vein, but it feels like a tiny tooth crushing pebble. Really I’d rather find a pebble in my hamburger because at least I could put a name to what I found and be like, “Dude, I just found an effin’ pebble in my cheeseburger.” I just needed to get the “crunch” off my chest because I still don’t know what it is.
I will also never know what happened to my koala bear beanie baby from my Happy Meal that I took into the rainbow play ball pen. I have long since dealt with the shame of my childhood beanie baby addiction, but I still am bothered because I never got closure that day at Mcdonalds. The tiny TY was in my hand one moment, and after climbing the black mesh and diving face first and backwards into the plastic balls, I came up (thankfully without a broken neck) and with no beanie baby. I dug for 5 minutes, which was a long time for a kid to waste in the playground. The more colorful balls I pushed away, the more that fell right back in its place. I knew what it was like to be trapped on my back pinned under another kid and gasping for air under two feet of plastic globes, and I empathized myself into a frantic terror. Eventually I was forced to settle with the idea that some droopy socked kid would probably find a prize and keep it. Every happy meal after that, I never got another koala bear.