Please say it ain't so, McDonald's. How can you possibly be considering shooting an anthrax-dipped, urinated upon flaming arrow through my heart and wallet by eliminating the double cheeseburger from your dollar menu?
First you water-down the McNopoly game, tossing out Best Buy Bucks, and now this? It's as though you've entered my home, stolen the change off my dresser and defacated in my cereal bowl. The double dollar cheeseburgers were always my safety valve in case I forgot my lunch or ran out of 99 cent Michelina's pizzas. What I feel for those heat lamp-massaged delights goes beyond simple hunger, lust or enfatuation.
Every bite bestowed a sense of satisfaction and oneness with all that was good and right. Each three-centimeter-thick patty made me into a better man, each pickle sloshed with that special mustard-ketchup amalgam inspired dreams of a better world. Each sticky thicket of cheese left over on the wrapper was a kiss from the ether. Double cheeseburgers were the viagra of food orgams.
BUT, they were worth a dollar plus tax, and nothing more. Go through with this reckless shenanigan, McDonald's, and I will no longer be a dollar menunaire. I'll refuse to obey the edicts of Mayor McCheese and vow to turn a blind eye to the suffering of Grimace.
And I shall place a curse upon the scarlet, curly head of Ronald himself, as well as three generations of his descendants thereafter.