We exited out of the back of the theater after seeing a late movie. I had decided we needed a break after killing a store full of cookies, a theater full of popcorn, and a supermarket full of food, so I brought my sidekicks to see The Avengers, so while at rest, we can learn how to defeat a bunch of guys dressed in teddy bear costumes. I was walking around as Hoj, Adam was Adam, and Condiment Cow was pretending to be a stuffed cow, I told him it wouldn’t work, but I guess people just aren’t smart enough to notice.
We walked down the sidewalk toward the Jeep, when a reddish ticket caught my eye. I stopped suddenly, and picked it up off the ground. ‘DROP THIS COUPON IN PROPER PLACE’ it said.
“Hey Adam, look at this.”
He took the ticket from me, looked it over, “Hmm... Wonder where the Proper Place is.”
“...” said Condiment Cow.
“Stop talking Condiment Cow,” I whispered angrily, “you don’t want people to know your secret identity, do you? But that is a good idea, off to PC then.”
The three of us climbed into the off duty Condiment Mobile, and I drove us up to the Price Chopper just diagonal to the SouthGlen (it didn’t get bought out yet in this story).
Dressed now in our superhero costumes, we moseyed into the supermarket, in search of our all knowing mentor, Akmed. After a little searching, and wading through dead veggies, we found him near the back, scraping Bert blood off the tile floor.
“Howdy Akmed,” I called.
He looked up, and smiled.
“I found this ticket,” I pulled it out of my Condiment Utility Belt, and showed it to him, “do you know anything about the Proper Place?”
“Hmm... Give me a moment.” He placed his fingers to his temples, and closed his eyes. He swayed around for a few minutes humming, then his eyes burst open, “I know not of the Proper Place you seek, but you will find the answers at Supermarket in Orlando.”
“Tanks wise Akmed. Sidekicks, I will need you to stay here.”
“But why CM?” said Adam.
“This is a quest I must do on my own. Besides, I will need you two to dispense condiments to those in need while I am gone.”
“All right, good luck then Condiment Man.”
I placed the coupon in my Condiment Utility Belt, and headed out to the Condiment Mobile while calling Alfredo on the Condiment Radio. “Get the Condiment Plane fueled up,” I said, “I’m off to find the Proper Place.”
* * * *
I sat in the Chick-fil-A, satisfying my hunger with a box of chicken nuggets. I wondered where I would find the supermarket, and what answers about the Proper Place would I find there. I turned my head, looking out toward the back of the store, seeing my Condiment Plane parked alone in the parking lot. I glanced out the front windows of the store, when across the road I saw what I was looking for.
“Yes! It’s a supermarket, called Supermarket! Ingenious.” I stood in awe,
amazed that this place was almost as mystical as the great Price Chopper. Dropping the nugget I was about to eat, I slowly raised from my chair, and staggered over to the window, mashing my face up against the glass. Drool slowly dribbled from my open mouth, then slowly made its way down the window.
“Umm... Sir, customers aren’t allowed to drool on the windows. I have to ask you to leave,” said a Chick-fil-A employee.
“I must be off anyway, the time has come for me to continue my search for the Proper Place,” I said heroically.
“I hope you’re wearing sun tan lotion, the sun’ll really get ya down here.”
“Pfft. I’m a superhero, the sun cannot burn me,” I said as I pulled the shirt and cape part of my costume off, “but I might as well get a nice tan while I’m down here.” I pushed the glass door open, and off into the blazing heat I went.
Sweat poured off of every part of my superhero body as I made my way across the parking lot. By the time I reached the road, it felt as if the sun was getting hotter, and hotter. I blocked the enormous amount of sunlight with my right arm, holding it up to my face. My shoulder was getting hotter, and hotter, at times I felt like it would burst into flames right there. I trudged slowly forward, skillfully finding the perfect place and time to jaywalk and not get run over.
Once I had made it across the road, I was in the Supermarket parking lot. My shoulder steadily grew redder the closer I got to the amazing supermarket. It became a struggle against the sun. Could I make it into Supermarket before my arm burst into flames was the only thought on my mind.
The automatic door slid closed behind me, then everyone started staring at me. I stood in awe at the greatness of Supermarket. The heavenly light cast down upon me, and my mouth dropped in amazement.
“It appears your arm has burst into flames. Would you like some water?” said a man in a Pakistani accent.
I looked at the isles, sunglasses 50% off, rows of Pepsi and chips stacked neatly before me, and an angelic voice came over the intercom, telling of a special on baked ham. A tear slowly trickled down my cheek.
“Hello? Your arm is on fire! Do you want water?” the Pakistani shouted.
The tear rolled around my huge grin, paused for a second on my chin, then fell to the ground. Once it hit, a few gallons of water slammed into me, knocking me to the left a few steps.
“What the heck did you do that for?” I yelled as steam hissed and rose from my arm.
“Your arm, was on fire!” the Pakistani yelled back, holding a bucket with water slowly trickling out.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The Pakistani cocked his head, and looked at me evilly, “I did, three times!”
I paused for a second, then replied, “Anyway, Akmed said this is where I should go to learn about the Proper Place.”
“You must be Condiment Man. I am Isded, a friend of Akmed. Well, here is our informational pamphlet on the Proper Place, anything you want to know, it’s in here.”
“Tanks,” I said as I took the pamphlet. I looked through it, and found out that the Proper Place was back in Overland Park. There were two Proper Place tickets made, one was found by me, and the other fell into enemy hands, or fists as the case may be. My enemy No Hands had gotten a ticket from a friend of mine, and learned about the Proper Place from a HLCC (Hobby Lobby Creative Center) here in Orlando, and was hunting me down for my ticket. The pamphlet told me that I had to find No Hands, take the second Proper Place ticket, and go to Overland Park to drop them.
I turned, and started walking toward the door, when the Pakistani stopped me.
“Here, take this,” he put a container of sun block in my hand, “it will make you invulnerable to the sun’s evil rays.”
I looked at the bottle, which had a picture of a dog pulling some kid’s bathing suit off. “Hmm... Strong enough for vampires, lycanthrops, and superheros in Florida,” I read off of the bottle, I made a fist and said evilly, “Sun, you will pay.”
A small boy ran off crying. I put on some of the lotion, then the shirt part of my costume, and headed out into the blinding light, looking for the no handed one.
I moseyed down the busy street, toward the gas station and McDonald’s by
Chick-fil-A. It was then my stomach remembered I didn’t eat all of my nuggets. I headed across the street, planning to head back into the Chick-fil-A, but soon changed my mind when I saw a guy with a squeegee cleaning my drool off the window, next to a sign saying, “Please don’t drool on glass. Yes, someone actually did this.”
I entered the McDonald’s instead, and was immediately blinded by the lack of light. I stumbled around as sparkly blobs oozed around my eyes. They slowly faded, and I saw before me No Hands, with his arm reared back.
“Give me the coupon evil one!” shouted No Hands.
“I’m not evil! I’m trying to do good here, give me the coupon.”
“How can you say you’re not evil? You almost killed my friend.”
“He was a rental! I had to catch the bad guy. Now give me the coupon, and you won’t get hurt,” I shouted back.
“Why would I hand it over to an evil mastermind like you?”
“There can only be one good guy, and I’m it buddy, which makes you not it, and because you’re not it, you must be evil, and you are standing in the way of my finding the Proper Place.”
He raised his handless arms with fists at the end, and shouted through clinched teeth, “You have it backwards, I’m good, you’re evil, and evil must be thwarted!”
“Hey guys,” Ronald McDonald said happily as he stepped between us.
“Nobody said McDonald’s. Go away, were tryin’ to fight here,” said No Hands.
“There will be no fighting in McDonaldland, please take this outside,” Ronald said with a smile.
I let out a deep sigh, then headed out the door. I got to the end of the parking lot, then turned to see No Hands standing in the darkness of the doorway. I planted my feet in the ground, and waved for him to come at me. He scowled, then started running.
He made it about halfway, then he burst into flames. His arms went up and he started dancing about as the fire burnt him like a marshmallow. No Hands’ scream filled the area, then he collapsed in a charred heap on the ground.
“Shoulda wore your sun block,” I laughed. The glimmer of the coupon caught my eye, and I started walking over to take it, but stopped suddenly when I saw something come out of the McDonald’s.
“McNuggets to the rescue!” the three McNuggets shouted on their way into the light, then veered their plane toward No Hands’ charred body.
Ronald then stepped into the doorway, and with a smile, shouted, “Fry-Guys, charge!” A dozen multicolored pompom-like creatures made of french fries stormed out of the doors, then headed towards me.
“No, not more living food,” I muttered, then ran toward the mound of No Hands. As I neared the body, I realized the McNuggets were on a kamikaze mission, flying straight at my head. I dove to the ground, the propeller blade grazing my cape. Managing a somersault, I rolled next to No Hands, and pulled the ticket hanging from his pocket.
I started to stand, but as I got into a crawl position, I was kicked in the stomach. My eyes shut and my jaw clenched, then I slowly looked over at who had kicked me. A blue Fry-Guy stood with a smirk. I climbed to my feet, took a step toward the little bugger, when I was hit in the back. My chest flew forward, as the rest of me tried to catch up. I fell to the ground, when dozens of Fry-Guys started jumping on my back and legs. I stuck the coupon in my pocket, then stretched my arms out. Digging my fingers into the hot parking lot, I tried to pull myself out of the mess of fry people, but there were too many of them.
Golden arches appeared over my wrists, with one arch over my left wrist, and the other arch over my right, with the middle part of the ‘M’ going between. The Fry-Guys got off of me then, and I laid there with the arches pinning me to the ground.
Red floppy shoes came up from my left, and stopped a few feet from my head. A hand grabbed my cape, and the golden arches disappeared. I was pulled to my feet, and Ronald stood before me.
“You have caused enough trouble for one day,” said Ronald with a smile.
I was led into the McDonalds back room, which was furnished with a chair, a
table, and a view screen that covered a whole wall. Ronald sat me down in the chair, and turned on the view screen.
It showed a conveyer belt lined with ‘chicken’ McNuggets. The monitor focused on them coming out of a big oven, and under a funnel like machine that would drip a drop of lime green glowing liquid on each one. On the funnel like machine a piece of paper was taped, that said, “Special Hi-C.”
“What the heck are you doing Ronald?” I asked.
“He he ha ha. I’m taking over the world,” he replied with a smile.
“How is making chicken nuggets taking over the world?”
“I’m not just making nuggets. You see, there are McDonalds’ in most towns
across the United States, and they are also in some of the better countries around the world, with me so far?”
A puzzled look came over me, “I still don’t see how this has to do with taking over the world.”
His smile faded slightly, and yelled, “I’m getting to that! Geez. Well, I have been smuggling a serum out of McDonaldland for some time now. This serum, when touched to food, will make it come alive, and it will do whatever the person that brought it to life says. So when the time is right, all food at every McDonalds across the world will come alive, and attack. All those not killed will be ruled by me, then I will go after McDonaldland.”
I couldn’t help but look at him in disgust. I had always thought there was something weird going on at McDonalds, I just never knew it would turn out to be this diabolical.
“Ronald, do you copy?” said a muffled voice.
Ronald pulled a walkie-talkie out of his overalls, and annoyidly said into it with a smile, “Yes, Grimace.”
“The new shipment of special Hi-C is in, we need you to sign for it.”
“I’ll be down in a second.” Ronald put the radio away, and turned toward a
Fry-Guy, “Guard him with your life. If he’s not here when I get back, I’ll have you sold.”
The Fry-Guy jumped to attention, then ran over to me. It stared at me intently, watching my every move, until Ronald left the room.
Once Ronald had left the Fry-Guy gave an annoyed squeak, then sat at the computer. It would hit some keys, glance up at a servalence monitor, and occasionally look back to see if I was still in the chair.
As the guy of fries flicked away at the keys, I slowly pulled a few ketchup packets from my belt, slowly tore them open, and crept up behind my guard.
He did his usual glance back, but this time he found me standing over him, ketchup raised high in the air, and a look that would make any food know it was about to be eaten. The Fry-Guy started to get out of the chair, when ketchup rained down on him. It let out a terrified scream, and took off down a hallway.
With my captor gone, I sat down at the computer, and looked up where the portal to McDonaldland was. It was back in Overland Park, in the Rosana Square McDonalds.