Wednesday, January 29, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 1 - THE BRAND IS FLY - Part 2/3

Honey it's cold outside...

I hustle into McDonald's @ Times Square, NYC like McFly himself -

Brown Dr. Marten Steel Toe'd Boots -
Both of which are torn and frayed and ripped at the seams -
Be tight and snug about my wool socks.

I got on three layers of jeans,
A long-sleeve T underneath two layers of sweatshirts,
Topped over with my coat and yes -
the coat zipper broke about a month ago.

I take off my skelly-cap,
Take the first breath that doesn't pinch and frost my icy lungs,
And realize that here at a 24 HOUR McDonald's at 4:45 AM on a Monday Morning -
With my bed and bag slung over my shoulder -
I'm precisely right where I should be.

"But McDonald's, look @ you..."

I'm having a look around,
Trying to remember how many years it has been since I'd last stepped inside a Micky D's,
While comparing my Childhood Memory of the interior with my Present Visuals.

'Ronald got High on Technology...' I thought, suddenly aware there was no real reason to be surprised.

I was at the Epicenter of a Fast City, Inside a Fast-Food Restaurant
That was potentially the fastest of the fast...
I figured that if High-Tec made Fast-Food even Faster,
I was positively due to witness some kind of Miracle.

"Following Guest," said the cute girl behind the Machine.

So I stepped up.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Good." she answered.

I pointed up to the Virtual Menu Screen.

"I'll have the Pancakes."

She started tapping the screen.

"Pancake Combo with Sausage, Hashbrowns and a cup of -"

"Just the Pancakes, straight up," said I, quick to cut her off.

She became very quiet after that.

I didn't entirely mean to be rude.
It's just she was typing so quick
I could feel that Combo Meal already digesting in my belly
And no,
That would
Not do.

I swiped my McDonald's Gift Card and started to wait.
Fact of the Matter is that I was at the Peak of Fitness.
NYC had Welded and Worked the Spirit within unto a Color and Form of something akin
To a TOP DOG; Special Emphasis on TOP; Special Emphasis on DOG.

My Routine Dietary Plan was Oats, Carrots, Peanut Butter, Apples, Kale and Carrots
And occasionally some kind of Meat.
I did Reading, Writing and Exercise everyday
And in between
Yo-Yo'D and Pinball'D from place to place about NYC.

Yeah I was skinny but so what?
I could hold my own weight
And figured that was enough; leave the rest for Ronald.

"Pancakes," she said, putting the bag on the counter.

About 15 Seconds.

"Maple Syrup and Butter inside," she added.

Clearly da Cutie knew what I was Digging.

"Thanks Cutie."

She waved her hand as though to wave me off and at that
I took up my bag,
Went looking for a seat.

I was walking parallel to a Diner-Style Counter -
Each of which had a personal TV affixed above
The circular Diner-Style Seats -
When her voice stretched out the speakers to reach me...

"We clawed, we chained our Hearts in Vain,
We jumped, never asking why...
We kissed, I fell under your spell
A love, no one could deny..."

A music video of Miley C. was on the screen and she was looking out at me -
Sharp and black-studded eyelashes about cobalt-blue eyes set over those candy apple lips.
How Lovely.

Naturally I took a seat right there,
Smoothed on the Butter, poured on the Maple,
Gave thanks and got down with the Dog Pound.

And while loving the cakes,
I'm listening to the guy sitting next to me as he explains to some other guy
About how back in the day he taught the Kids
That in order to be a Winner in Tennis,
You gotta keep the Ball in the Court...

And while still loving the cakes,
I'm watching this Disney Channel Star turned Diva -
Wearing only a tank-top, panties and Magenta Dr. Marten Boots -
As she holds to a chain as she sits and swings through Walls on a giant Wrecking Ball...

And while loving my last bite of the cakes,
I'm considering how Miley took it to the next level
And simultaneously, irrefutably, won the argument.

With Breakfast in the Furnace, I decide the time is ripe for a rip-roaring run.

I head to my Locker, drop off my bags and hit the streets like Makaveli the Don.

(Holla if you Hear Me)




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