FFWD Weekly
Copyright © 1997. All Rights Reserved.
Rubber baby burger bumper
It's back-to-school time, so feed the children swellSlap me, pinch me, box my ears if you've heard this one b'fore: OK, a priest, a rabbi and a duck walk into a McDonald's in Denver (or maybe Boulder, who cares?) just in time to see a hungry guy take a big bite outta a Big Mac. And then the guy gets a puzzled look on his face, flips off the top bun and lo-and-behold, there's a condom sitting on his top pattie. And then the duck asks, "Is it like a contraception storm?" and the guy sez, "No, silly. A flavor storm!" and gobbles up the remaining burger. Then the four of them (priest + rabbi + duck + guy) laff and laff.
Ha ha ha, we're having big fun this week, aren't we? Ha ha ha! O'course (just a sec, I've gotta wipe my eyes - I'm tearing up!) (hoo-ha!), in real life there wuz no priest, no rabbi and certainly no duck. And altho there most certainly is a Boulder man (or Denver, who cares?) who claims he found a condom in his burger, he ain't laffing. (The so-called victim says he thought the rubber was a pickle - also acceptable would be "carrot," "zucchini" or "tubular beet.")
Maybe the guy is a dirty rotten liar out to bilk McD's (or was it Burger King, who cares?) outta millions of $$$ (à la Bob & Doug's mouse-in-beer-bottle scheme in Strange Brew) - or maybe Ronald didn't take the time to properly tidy up after riding Grimace's sweetly asexual purple ass in the walk-in cooler. (Insert "special sauce" yuk-yuks here.) That's for the courts to decide. (In the criminal justice system there are two kinds of people: those who are dedicated to righting wrongs, and those who point at Exhibit A and gag.)
If there's a lesson to be learned here, it is as follows: when making your child's back-to-school lunch, do NOT slip a condom between the bread. I know, I know, you think you'll never do it, you scoff when the morning DJ reminds listeners to "slow down in school zones and for God's sake cool it on the condom sandwiches. Let's look out for the little guys!" But it could happen; one morning you might find yourself hung over (perhaps even still drunk), or sober and vindictive, and before you know it (& with a generous slathering of djionaise to cover yer tracks) the dirty deed is done. Well, don't do it. Just don't, OK? Send your kid packing with a carton of whipping cream in lieu of choco-milk. Wet Junior's whistle with a drinkin' box of orange juice and one of those little bottles swiped from the airplane. Just no rubberwiches, please.
That's pretty much all that can be said about the subject, so instead of another 200 words, let's just sit here and think about bunny rabbits and rainbows. La la la la la la la la la... ooops, one more thing (and this is the last time, promise!): Welcome to SheikBurger, home of the SheikBurger, may I take your order? Ha ha!
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