Mickey D’s is always an amazing place to people watch. Particularly, at a busy time. Usually, when I go for breakfast (since I’ve been out of work, that is) around 10:15 it isn’t particularly crowded. This morning, however, was an exception.

I arrived a little late, around 10:25, and I was anxious because they stop serving breakfast at 10:30. However, there wasn’t much of a line, and I ordered without any problems.

I began to get worried, when at 10:30, the menu switched over, and my tray lay on the counter sans Sausage and Egg McMuffin. As I waited for my order to be filled, I took particular delight in the misery of others, as they popped in, stared up at the lunch menu, tried in vain to order breakfast, and sulked out to their car.

It’s pure joy to be on the good end of that situation. It’s also pure hell to lose out for McDonald’s breakfast by thirty seconds. Next time, try breaking the speed limit. It’s the difference between deliciously fried food, and a miserable day.

So as I accepted my tray, I turned around to grab some napkins and a straw and was greeted with a flood of church-going children and their parents. I waded through the veritable sea of people to get to my table. Fortunately, they were able to enhance my dining experience by singing church hymns in no-part harmony.

C’mon Jesus!
I said, “Jesus. Jesus.”
Pray up to Jesus, Jesus.
And get on your way.

Ah, thank God for sarcasm.

One chaperone, was wearing a “Jesus is your key to eternal life” T-shirt. I thought better of telling her that cloning was the key to eternal life, opting instead to eat my McMuffin in silence.

Now if that wasn’t enough, when the church hymns finally subsided, some little girl decided to fill the void by screeching “Jingle Bells” at the top of her lungs. Her mother did nothing to stop her annoying behavior. Me, I would have performed surgery on her vocal chords with the plastic cutlery.

And to top of the morning, everywhere I turned, children were staring at me in that creepy emotionally detached way that most children do. Every time I averted my eyes to avoid their gaze, I locked eyes with another child staring me down. It was the motherfucking children of the corn, people.

I gulped down the remains of my hash brown and got the fuck out of there.

On the way out, I discovered that the Church bus had blocked me in. So by the time I got the 85 year old driver to move the bus, I had to drive out of the parking lot while trying not to mow down the 45 church kids walking back to the bus.

I felt like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Days out of work: 28

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