McDonald's Madness

I slowly brought my beat-up sedan to a halt as I waited for one of the McDonald's employees to hand me my calorie-rich grub. As I sat there, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and watching the young lady speak to a fellow co-worker hastily putting together my meal, I wondered to myself whether my regular trips to the Golden Arches had gotten out of hand. I was by no means one of those typical fast food junkies who raced to the nearest Wendy's or Burger King on a daily basis, but I did seem to gravitate towards eating at McDonald's at least twice a week. My hectic schedule as a full-time college student had me bouncing between my nonprofit internship and classes daily, so McDonald's was the easy answer when I wanted a quick meal for cheap. My favorite location was en route on my way home from work, so it was extremely convenient, albeit the obvious health risks of consuming Big Macs and McNuggets regularly.
A jovial laugh brought me out of my self-reflection, and I quickly turned to the drive-thru window. I nearly jumped out of my seat when the bright, smiling face of Ronald McDonald greeted me. The popular clown mascot held out my meal in a large, slightly greasy paper bag with the signature Golden Arches logo splattered on the front, accompanied by a small drink. I quickly took them from him, giving him a warm smile, even if his cemented grin seemed to disturb me a bit.
“Thank you very much Ronald,” I said, pondering where in the world the young lady and her co-worker went as I stared at the clown.
He gave me an animated wave, “No problem buddy. Thank you for visiting McDonald's today!”
I nodded in return and pressed on the gas, still feeling Ronald McDonald gaze at me as I drove off. As I looked in the rear view mirror, I could see that he continued to watch me as I left, still beaming. I refocused my attention to the road and shook my head. In the years upon years of going to McDonald's, even in different parts of the country, I had never seen the iconic mascot in person at any location. It just seemed so out of place to see him at this specific location, but I figured it was one of those rare appearances he made. It didn't make the encounter any less unsettling however. Weird, I thought, glancing at my food sitting on the seat next to me. Very weird.
Approaching my house, I noticed that my dad's Lexus was absent from the driveway. Realization sparked through my mind instantly as I remembered both he and my mom mentioned they would pay a visit to my grandma a few miles away, helping her with a few things around her apartment. I pulled into the driveway, turning off my headlights as I sighed. I snatched up my backpack from the backseat and picked up my meal, heading into the house.
Upon entering, I noticed that my parents had oddly left all the lights off. It was normal for them to leave a few lights on, like the main fixture in the kitchen or the decorative lamp in the living room when leaving the house, so being met by an abyss-like darkness as I came through the front door was a little scary. Carefully watching my step as I knew our inquisitive cat Spooks would be investigating the unknown person coming inside, I felt the little cat gently graze my leg and purr softly, and I gingerly stepped around the feline.
“Hey Spooks,” I said, feeling the tabby mewl in acknowledgment, recognizing that his human friend had come home. I sidestepped his small form and found my way to the large lamp next to the couch, and quickly flicked on the switch. The living room was bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, and I plopped down on the couch, eager to dig into my food.
My father had apparently been watching the news before my parents left, because when I switched on the television it was on his favorite channel, MSNBC, and one of those run-of-the-mill pundits was sounding off on some hot button issue. I zoned out their politically charged diatribe as I opened my McDonald's bag and felt around its contents. I unwrapped my Big Mac and took a bit bite, watching the lady on TV show footage of a gray-haired congressman from Georgia she apparently hated with all of her being by the way she described his ideologies. As she spoke about the congressman's hawkish position on foreign policy, I reached into the bag for some fries when I was surprised to find something underneath the red fry carton, at the very bottom in a jumble of napkins and ketchup packets. My fingers grasped the object, thinking it was a Happy Meal toy mistakenly placed with my order, and took it out of the bag.
Curiously, I found that it was not a licensed toy of any kind, but a simple CD in a plastic case. I unwrapped it and turned it over in my hand. Written on it in what appeared to be black Sharpie ink were the words: McDonald's Madness. I flipped it over, trying to decipher whether it said anything else as a DVD movie would, like a copyright symbol or year or even a small McDonald's logo hidden somewhere, but there was nothing. “What the heck is this?”
Deciding that maybe somebody clearly had put it in my bag as some weak attempt at an unexpected gag at a customer's expense, I set it down without another thought. I didn't want to entertain the idea of figuring it out, but the more I ate and tried to ignore the disc, my curiosity became overwhelming, my interest piqued to the fullest extent, and the DVD player underneath the flat screen begged me to insert the mysterious disc.
“Let's just see what you are,” I said aloud, jumping off the couch and inserting the disc. To my surprise, the screen turned blue and then a DVD-like menu was juxtaposed across my screen. I quickly sat down for a better look, and saw that McDonald's Madness was indeed a movie of some sort, the bold words displayed over an image of the classic McDonaldland character Grimace holding a hamburger. The only option on the menu was “Play Me.”
I chuckled. “Alrighty then.” I pressed on the play function, and the film began. I munched on a few fries, slurping my soda as the screen suddenly turned black. After a few moments, I could see a door materialize in the center of the screen. A door plastered with pictures drawn in crayon by children. The door slowly opened, and the camera panned to the far right corner of what looked like a hospital room. The next thing I saw caused me to stand up immediately in alarm, dread coursing through my body as I covered my mouth in horror.
In the corner of the room was a man, bound and gagged, sitting on a stool with his hands tied behind his back. He shook with terror as he gazed with bloodshot eyes at whomever stood in front of him, his legs quivering terribly, either in shock or in a feeble attempt to break the bonds that held his ankles together. Before long, others came into view, and I realized something very disturbing was occurring before my very eyes.
In the frame strolled a demented looking Ronald McDonald, accompanied by Grimace and the Hamburglar. Ronald held a shiny meat cleaver, and pointed at the camera with it. He motioned to the camera watching them, as if making sure that the man understood that they were being filmed. He diverted his attention back to the terrified man, and hopped ridiculously close to him. He slowly pulled out the rag that had been shoved into the man's mouth, and tossed it aside as he chuckled, tapping the man on the head playfully.
The man looked upon Ronald with a mixture of fear and sorrow. “I'm...I'm sorry. I will go back! I promise! Please, just me go! For God's sake, think of my family!”
Ronald laughed and turned to Grimace. “What do you say fellas? Should we let Mr. Harris go?”
Grimace and the Hamburglar seemed to ponder the notion for a moment, weighing their decision heavily as they looked at Mr. Harris.
“WELL!” Ronald barked.
The tone in his voice made me jump, as well as his costumed accomplices in the video, because they seemed startled as well, quickly shaking their heads. Ronald nodded hysterically, pointing his weapon at Mr. Harris. I watched as he held the meat cleaver dangerously close to the man's neck, causing Mr. Harris to quiver.
“See? We can't just let you go! No sir! It's too fucking late now!”
Mr. Harris, whether it was sweat or tears pouring down his bearded face, shuddered as he sat there, trying to speak through sporadic sobs and coughing fits. “Please...please...I didn't do anything wrong. I've been good to this company.”
This company? Whomever that man was, he must have worked for McDonald's in some way, and this sick, twisted treatment...this deplorable display of inhumanity...was his punishment? For what? What could this man have done to deserve this!
Ronald McDonald let out a hearty guffaw. “Oh, you have been good to us? Are you sure about that Mr. Harris? I wouldn't say that now, considering what you did to my company.”
Mr. Harris snarled angrily, the last of the crackling embers of fire that remained within his being exploding from his person, showing Ronald he still had fight in him. “ No! I didn't do a damn thing! It was you-” he motioned to the other McDonaldland characters- “and these freaks that did this company wrong! What you have done is inexcusable! That's why I left McDonald's! To let people know the truth!”
Ronald, almost like a King Cobra striking the air between its position and its prey, got up close to Mr. Harris's face, nose-to-nose with the man. He ran the cleaver through Mr. Harris's disheveled salt-and-pepper hair, grinning deviously. “That's enough for us to act Mr. Harris. You know that. You knew that the moment you signed up to become our corporate spin doctor. You knew you'd uncover things, well, unsavory in nature. Things better left unknown to many and kept secret by a few. Don't you agree with that Mr. Harris?”
My eyes glued to the screen, I sat there on the couch, too terrified to look away. Waiting to hear the corporate hostage's response. The man seemed to wither under the forceful presence of Ronald, the weight of his words simmering in his thoughts. After a few moments of silence, Mr. Harris looked at Ronald, his bottom lip quivering. “The employees...the food...the children."
I almost screamed when Ronald suddenly slapped Mr. Harris up the side of his head, causing the man to bellow with pain. He continued his attack until the man's eyes rolled in his head from extreme disorientation, coughing uncontrollably from the severe beating. Ronald heaved as he stared at Mr. Harris, his crazed eyes infuriated, primal rage etched across his painted face. He was completely silent yet his face furiously contorted as if he were ready to explode.
I cried out in surprise as my cell phone suddenly rang in my backpack, and I retrieved it like it was C-4 ready to incinerate me had I not gotten to it sooner. My mom's smiling face greeted me on the screen, and I swiped the bar on the screen to answer the call, clearing my throat as I tried to avoid looking at the disturbing image of Ronald still frozen in place, looking at the beaten man.
“Hey...hey Mom,” I said weakly, trying to retain my composure.
“Hey sweetie, just wanted to let you know we're on our way home. Grandma says she loves you and misses you. She wants you to call her tomorrow to catch up.”
I tried looking away from the screen, standing up and turning my back on the television and the disturbing show I was unfortunately witnessing. I pressed the phone to my ear. “Oh, okay Mom. I miss her and love her too. And yes, I will do that. I guess I will see you guys soon?”
“Okay honey, see you in a bit. Love you.”
“Fuck You Mom,” I responded, anxious to see my parents' faces soon.
I heard her hang up, and I sighed. I slowly refocused my attention on the television screen, and could now see that the McDonaldland gang was gone. Mr Harris sat there, head hanging, sobbing quietly. My eyes darted back and forth, looking for any sign of the disturbed trio, yet he was alone in the hospital room. Mr. Harris slowly raised his head.
"Please...you don't have to let them do this....just let me go. Let me go home to my family..." he pleaded.
I could hear whomever was filming clear his throat, about to speak, when Ronald suddenly popped up in front of the screen, causing me to scream aloud. Ronald giggled and skipped back over to the sobbing executive.
"Oh, hush now Mr. Harris, this is almost over. We're almost done here."
Mr. Harris whimpered, and sighed heavily. "Please...I'm begging you...for the love of God, don't do this..."
Ronald eyed the man, possibly considering the man's last plea for salvation. I watched the clown gaze at Mr. Harris for the longest time, before motioning to Grimace and the Hamburglar, and they slowly approached their manic leader. He felt their presence behind him, and smiled, grabbing the executive's chin.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Harris...it just has to be this way."
I gasped when I saw Ronald McDonald raise the cleaver, and deliver a sickening blow to the man's neck, blood splattering across the clown's face. Ronald McDonald giggled, and handed the bloody weapon to one of his cohorts. I watched in horror as they all stood next to a hysterical Mr. Harris, taking turns hacking the man in the neck over and over and over! Harris made sickening gurgling noises and shook uncontrollably as they knocked him off the stool and onto the hard, checkered floor. Within moments, with the Hamburglar delivering the final blow, they cut the man's head clean off, kicking it to the side as they all laughed maniacally.
Feeling bile rise in my throat, I quickly ran over to the kitchen sink and wretched, chunks of vomit splattering in the chrome basin. I panted and wiped my mouth, splashing water on my face as I held myself up. Letting the water continue to run to send my throw-up down the drain, I struggled to keep my legs from failing, shock coursing through my body. What the hell did I just watch?! That poor man was murdered by those unmerciful costumed freaks!
I slowly walked back to the living room, and on the screen I could see that all three of the McDonaldland characters stood over the decapitated executive, completely silent. Like roving cameras, they slowly swiveled their heads to face me. Unable to move by the sheer creepiness of their demeanor, I stared back at them, waiting for something to happen.
For a moment, it felt as if I looked back at mannequins-at unmoving, artificial figures frozen in time on screen. Ronald McDonald's waxy face seemed even more fake than his costumed accomplices, appearing to be made of shiny plastic like a Happy Meal toy. Grimace and the Hamburglar stood on either side of the clown, their hands at their sides like goofy sentinels. Then just like that, the disturbing image faded to black. I stood there, shaken to the core, trying to comprehend the sickening event that had just transpired. After a minute or two, I retrieved the twisted home movie from the DVD player and sat down, barely able to hold onto the evil disc.
Whatever this film was, I knew that I was not supposed to have seen it. What McDonald's Madness was was a murder caught on tape, a diabolical brutal murder encouraged by McDonald's. As I contemplated this, it became apparent that not only was this insane, but deceptively cunning as well. Absolutely nobody would believe this horror tale of corporate-sponsored manslaughter. Yet, I did have the disc. The one piece of evidence that could validate the entire morbid story...
The distinct sound of the deadbolt being slid out of its locked position on the front door caused me to leap into the air, uttering a low cry. When I saw it was my parents juggling groceries, a wave of relief washing over me. Quickly placing the disc in the crumpled McDonald's bag, I walked over to them.
“Hey guys,” I said weakly, trying to hide the obvious look of fear upon my pale face.
With one look, they could both tell that something was very wrong. Concern dominating their expressions, they questioned me extensively, trying to see what was the matter. That's when I showed them the mysterious disc I had been given, and I played the gruesome film once more. Within moments of watching it, my mother pulled me aside as my father called the police.
When McDonald's Madness was viewed by the police department, they identified Mr. Harris as former McDonald's public relations executive Charles Thomas Harris, who had gone missing on a boating trip in 2007. During his trip, a large storm was said to have claimed his life and two of his comrades, capsizing their boat in the Gulf of Mexico. With this sickening film, they now knew something more sinister was behind the man's unexpected demise.
Within the next few weeks, my parents and I were questioned thoroughly not only by the local police department, but by the FBI as well. The incriminating evidence I had stumbled upon opened up a can of worms, and it all suspiciously led back to McDonald's. They raided the franchise location I had the misfortune of receiving the movie from, and launched an internal investigation against the McDonald's corporation.
I wish I could tell you that the police prevailed in finding who killed this poor man and that justice was served, however, nothing came out of their crusade against McDonald's. Nothing. I was dumbfounded when I discovered that McDonald's was found to be completely innocent, with no further action brought against the fast food giant. The federal investigation had become a futile government attempt to fault McDonald's, and was labeled as so by the media. The family of Charles Harris were most affected by the whole thing, and struggled to cope with the grisly revelation thrown in their faces years after the man's death.
The one thing that never came out of the entire investigation was what Harris was talking about in the movie. The employees and food and children. Law enforcement never found out what he was referring to, and McDonald's lawyers had no comment on the man's odd allegations against the company. In the end, McDonald's walked away clean as a whistle, like the whole thing never happened.
I can't say for sure what McDonald's really did that Harris discovered, but what I can say is what happened on that film. And my family and I saw with our own eyes a man tortured and murdered by some crazy McDonald's cult carrying out some form of twisted justice upon the supposed company traitor. That this giant corporation was somehow behind this sick plot to cover something up that this man knew.
As I think of all this today, I am thankful that the authorities kept our identities confidential, yet I have a firm belief that the damage has been done. That McDonald's is coming after my family. How do I know this? Well, I feel like we're being watched. Whether it be going about our daily lives, or right here at home, I can feel this sinister presence waiting in the wings-waiting to take action against us.
I don't know if I will truly ever feel safe after McDonald's Madness, but I do know is that I will never look at the Golden Arches the same again. And I also know that whomever recorded the movie and the person who slipped the disc into my meal, wanted the truth to get out somehow. I sometimes ponder if maybe the Ronald McDonald who gave me my meal was actually the good guy, that he was somehow behind releasing the movie. I still wonder if maybe he escaped the clutches of McDonald's, or maybe they already got to him also.
If anything it taken away from this tale, it is this: somewhere, somebody knows the entire truth behind the death of Charles Harris and what the company is hiding, and I pray that that person is alive. Alive and figuring out what move to take next against this facade of an All-American fast food company that caters to people from all walks of life, especially children. Chipping away at their colorful, kind walls of community and goodwill that McDonald's hides behind, hopefully one day showing the world, that McDonald's is much worse than we previously feared...