Not All Happy Meals Get Happy Endings

Lube Me Up with Fry Grease part 10- Season Finale!

Here it is folks, the final fry at the bottom of the bag. The one you found when you least expected it & thought to yourself: “Self, why did we just eat at McDonald’s? Do we not love ourselves? Do we always talk in the 3rd person?” Then you see the golden glow of starchy, processed perfection and life has meaning once again. So you use the bag to pour it into your gaping maw, only to have it bounce off your glistening cheek and land behind you. You audibly whimper and turn around quickly to retrieve it. However, you forgot you’re on the clock and you work at a sewage processing plant. You wince, but see it still floating on the surface of the grayish-brown foamy smoothie of fetid excrement, masticated toilet paper, and peepeepoopoo water. You kneel to retrieve it, but move the floating…finger? out of the way first. You finally have it in your loving hands, give it a good shake off and let it drop in the drooling, insatiable bear-trap that you call a mouth. Ever so thankful for your lord & savior, “the 5 second rule.”

Now, let’s shoot this fucking commercial.

---

The tantalizing mmf trio had become a quivering quattro, then a titillating mff trio after all was said and done. Ronald, Wendy, and the big bird felt torn. Wendy just wanted to attempt to retrieve their syruped and chocolate-chipped pancake of a friend from the still-“venting” giant to be buried with dignity. Ronald just needed to see what else was in the wall safe. Birdie just wanted to see what color panties Wendy had on. They decided the only choice that made sense was to get to the wall safe and get the hell out of Dodge. (Red by the way.)

Ronald and Wendy stared at the lone glass beaker. The blue liquid glowed, illuminating the interior of the wall safe and its “FLFPD¹ antidote” label. Wendy grabbed it and started unscrewing the lid before Ronald stopped her.

“Wait wait wait wait wait, let’s not be too hasty with this just yet.”

Wendy looked at him in stupefaction, while he gingerly plucked the beaker out of her hands with 2 fingers.

“But what if there’s weird side effects, plus Birdie and me could be horny incessantly for the rest of our lives! Think of the dry cleaning bills!” Wendy exclaimed.

Ronald placed the beaker in his large billowing yellow pants pocket, grabbed her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. His touch made her pupils dilate, her [Tater tots] stiffen to glass-cutting peaks, and her entire abdomen to give off enough heat to bake cookies with. He then turned to look at the statuesque harpy as she sexily clucked and preened, paying extra attention to her juicy original recipe thighs and perky, crispy breasts. He wouldn’t mind having this extra value meal glaze his smiling chops every morning.

“I just think we should weigh our options.” he said wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth.

Wendy looked around the room,“Wait, this is just the antidote! Where’s the actual serum?”

They looked at each other in shock.

“Say mack, er…MacDaddy, you flappin’ your gums about this?” Birdie clucked, pointing her talons at the doodoo swamp surrounding the two bodies.

All 3 of them winced when they noticed the beaker sitting upright but in the middle of the malodorous moat surrounding Hamburglar and Carl Jr.

######

Still perturbed that she lost in “rock paper scissors,” Wendy finished washing her hands a second time after she placed the beaker in her pocket for safe keeping. The beakers looked dangerously similar with only a simple label separating the two. When she walked out of the bathroom into the hall, Birdie was trying to slide her wings into Ronald’s pants.

“C’mon Mista, I was just fixin’ ta have at your Happy Meal so a dame like me can get a kid’s toy!” the feathered floozy cooed.

Ronald choked up, “Yeah. . .maybe. . .don’t say it like that.”

Wendy put her hands on her hips with gusto and asked, “and we are sure we don’t want to take the antidote still?”

Ronald responded, “Well, I was talking it over with Birdie here and I told her maybe we can try out a living situation. Since she’s without a home now and we’re so close to freedom. Maybe we can even work out some kind of entanglement.”

Wendy chuckled, “Sure Mister MacDaddy, if you think you have the stamina and the strength to handle me, her, and her oversized bulbous [crouton] than by all means.”

Birdie shrugged and cocked her head while Ronald gave her the side eye.

“So back to the being close to fucking freedom part?”

Birdie lit up, “Oh yeah, let’s fly out of this coop while we still can. Uh, Hep Cat!”

The three trudged downstairs avoiding the grand entrance that was still blocked from the lockdown procedure.

“Wait here, I know how to unlock it.” Ronald told his prospective sister wives.

The two got closer to the steel grating that slammed down in a sheet when the alarms triggered them. Ronald headed back to the [11 Herbs & Spices - Keep Out] security room. His mind was flipping back and forth between what would happen if the colonel came back, how long it had been since he saw the sun, and if they could fit a large enough bird cage in their trailer? He entered the minimum security room. (door still wide open.) His eyes played hopscotch on the screens, panels, and switches. The labels all seemed to blur together, making the frustration bubble up behind his furrowed brow.

“What’s taking so long?!” Wendy piped from the foyer.

Ronald let out an irritated sigh, fed up with this whole situation. He eyed the long bundles of wires leading into the main circuit as he formulated in his head if he was prepared to make this crucial decision. He readjusted his gloves and gathered the tangled cords in his hands, readying himself to pull them all at once and hoping for the best.

Then Wendy stuck her head in the room, flipped the [external door locks] switch and said “Forgot you can’t read, my bad!” before once again disappearing. Ronald marveled at the switch momentarily when the windows and doors all illuminated with washes of daylight as the security shades slowly rolled up. He chased after Wendy, blinking away the spots dancing in his eyes from the overwhelming brightness.

“Wendy, did you think anymore about what we talked about?”

Wendy waited for him and nonchalantly responded back, “Oh yeah Me & Birdie already talked. She’s in! I was telling her how we can make a little spot for her pottery wheel and kiln in the guest room. Then she can help me get my Essential Oil business off the ground!”

They crossed back past the parlor and Ronald snapped out of his malaise stare, “WAIT, but we all sleep in the same bed right?”

“Of course Silly, not like much sleeping will be getting done.” Wendy raised her eyebrows lasciviously and playfully punched Ronald’s arm. “Cuz you’re going to have to work some extra shifts on account of us having an extra mouth to feed.”

Ronald’s shoulders slumped like he just found out someone killed his cat as they joined Birdie, grooming herself yet again with sparse feathers whirling around on the floor.

Wendy piped up, “Let’s get the fuck out of here finally! Fuck this old motherfucker, I’m going to be the Queen of #EssentialOilBossBabes!”

Ronald’s face was a portrait of a crying clown, painted with gloom and regret. Birdie put her arm in his as they took their final steps to freedom, “Say MAcDaddy, I was thinking. What say we put my birdbath in the front room. It won’t take up too much room. Just gotta move the Davenport a few shakes to the left. See? You ain’t got carpeting right?”

As soon as they made it past the tacky stone pillars, they paused to let the bright sun rays warm their skin. The smell of freedom, sex swings, and all new adventures invaded their nostrils. Then Birdie took flight, 0 to 60 vertically in 2.1 seconds. The pair stood stunned and dumbfounded as she became a mere dot in the sky above them. Wendy was using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and said, “welp. . .birds gunna bird when they see an open window. . .” Ronald looked around, slowly blinking for a beat. Until the sound of metallic whirs came rushing towards them, snapping them out of their stupor of disbelief.

#####

Colonel Sanders was dead to the world, or he might as well have been. He was in his favorite spot, on the benches in the park feeding cold french fries to the ducks. He had been there for hours, completely oblivious to the time since he set his jitterbug to silent and left it in his Member’s Only jacket, neatly folded on the seat next to him. He continued to hee-haw to himself as he tried to draw the marine birds closer to him.

“C’mere, I say, C’mere you sexy lake chickens!” he exclaimed as he startled the closest ones and made them flutter away with their wings flapping in the wind. His hearing aid battery must have been running low because he hardly heard the commotion, nor his vibrating phone, nor the whirr of metallic blades descending upon him.

A drone hovered above the colonel’s powdered wig.

“HARLAND!”

Colonel Sanders nearly jumped out of his skin.

“McJesus? I say, McJesus is that you? Is it my time already?”

He dramatically clutched his heart, “Too much, I say, too much damn MSG did me dirty. This is the big one!” He wheezed, “Oh, this is the biggest one I ever had. You hear that Elizabeth? I'm coming to join you honey!”

The drone hovered in an irritated manner, if that were possible.

“HARLAND! YOU GERIATRIC SHIT! You chose today of all days to go be an old man and sit in the park?”

The drone flew lower, until it was in eye-line with the colonel. The BK logo emblazoned on the side glinted in the light and the small screen in front showed an angry looking man with a brown beard wearing all white and a crown cocked to the side.

“Oh, greetings, I say greetings your highness!” Colonel Sanders said, as he straightened up and adjusted his tie.

“Where is your phone Harland.” The King spat.

“Well, it’s right here king.” He said retrieving it. “See?” He opened the clamshell mobile for seniors on the go.

“I see 14 missed calls and texts from me. That’s all I see Harland. . .and a topless Judge Judy phone background?”

“Yeah, I say yeah, she’s a spitfire. What can I say.” He looked down at his phone, tapping away before showing it to the camera lens on the drone.

“Look it, I say, Look it that.” with a wily grin.

The King exhaled with indignation, “Do you see all the security alerts? The ones saying your compound had been compromised?” The king’s screen switched to show Ronald and Wendy running into the forest. The Colonel looked down at his phone flustered.

“You old bastard, I bet there are rocks younger than you!” The King roared. “That does it. DAIRY QUEEN! Activate BIRDIE protocol, this instant!” From behind him, a bassy shriek yelled back, “IT’S MY SPECIAL DAAAYYY!” Colonel Sander’s was looking down at his phone, barely paying attention, mumbling. “They put, I said, they put my glasses on Michael Jordan crying, why they do that.” He absentmindedly chuckled to himself.

The King’s eyes were vexed slits of rage.

“Goodbye Harland. I hope your Hoverround in hell gets a flat tire on the first day.”

The screen went blank and the colonel waved at it as it drifted away. A deafening screech sliced through his final moment of demented bliss as the shadow above him grew larger.

The harpy dive-bombed toward the ground in a blur, her talons puncturing and lifting the feeble old man in her grip. As fast as she descended, she returned to the murderous skies, the velocity cranking the discombobulated octogenarian’s fragile neck back until it snapped in two. Soaring high above the earth, she hovered just long enough to watch the life drain from his cataracts. In one motion, she flung his body upward, caught the old man’s turkey waddle in her mouth and clipped through the lifeless flesh with her razor sharp beak. Blood sprayed on her and showered the ground and bench below. A glint of silver rolled across her eye, initiating recording complete.

She released the body and let it plummet down the 200 or so feet. It detonated like a watermelon full of fireworks, spraying the ground and bench with crimson syrup that frightened the ducks away. Birdie landed next to the mangled corpse, returning back to her normal state. The panic rising in her eyes as the blood dripped down her face. She pecked at a few fries next to her and then took flight once more, she had one more matter to deal with.

#####

Wendy and Ronald were exhausted and haggard from running over the river and through the woods.

“I think we lost it!” Wendy exclaimed, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. Ronald’s eyes couldn’t help but watch her beating [biscuits] dance as he tried to collect himself.

“Where there’s one drone, there will be more. If the king finds us, we are done for. We need to get rid of the FLFPD and the antidote before it’s too late.”

They left the small clearing in the forest, coming up on the cliff that overlooked the Problematic Bay. Wendy walked to a stone near the cliffs edge and looked out at the water, deep in reflection. Ronald sat on the stone, looking away since he tends to get sea sick easily.

He hemmed and hawed for a bit before finally interrupting the quiet whoosh of the waves.
”I think we should just destroy both beakers.” He let the beaker fall on the ground and crushed it with his oversized red shoe.

Wendy was overcome with joy, still facing the water and said “I knew you would come around, I just knew you would make the right decision!” With teary eyes, she pulled the beaker of FLFPD out of her pocket and stared at its contents. Ronald walked up to join her, wrapping his hands around her waist.

“It’s the right decision,” he said, his voice muffled in her flowing pigtails.

She sighed, “Yeah.” before throwing the bottle out into the sea.

“WAIT NO NOT…” Ronald yelled out and then his voice quickly halted. “The drinking . . .water. . .comes from...” He pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nostrils. “Welp, that sounds like a Volume 2 problem to me.”

Wendy’s mouth was still agape and her eyebrows raised, “yeah. . .” Her eyes trailing down to some kind of celebration on the sands below them with a soft organ playing. With the worst now behind them, the pair stayed there for a few more moments. Wendy wanted the waves to take all her cares away. Ronald turned his lover to him, noting the tension in her body language.

“Stop worrying about it, it’s over and done. There’s nothing more we can do.” He said to her in a hushed lull.

“It’s not that, it’s...”

“We are free Wendy! We made it! Now we can get back to normal. Back to life, back to reality. I might not have a job anymore because,” He ran his hands through his 2-3 weeks worth of beard growth. “...yeah I probably don’t have a job anymore but that’s ok. We have essential oils right?”

Wendy burst into tears.

“Ronald, I’m pregn-”

A high pitch shriek thundered above them. Causing the stunned pair to break off in a sprint down to the coast line. Sounds of screams and shrieks could be heard as they ran inaverdently toward the commotion. Ronald and Wendy were witnessing a crazed red wedding. Guests were fleeing in droves, screaming bloody murder as a golden Rolls Royce peeled off. The vehicle with the [BK MY WAY] license carved a path for them to enter this nightmare scenario unfolding. The sound of flapping, squeals, and wood snapping came from the middle of the turmoil. The two pushed through, a stubborn sense of heroic duty pulling them forward.

The last survivors cleared as a blood-soaked wing creature was snapping flower arches and pieces of the stage with her sexy talons.

“BIRDIE!” they exclaimed, rushing up to their long lost Rubbin’ Red Breast.

“Hey chicky babies!” she said before snapping a folding chair in two and eyeing them. “What are ya waiting on-a bus?”

“What are you doing?” Ronald yelled among the noise.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Daddio. I’m making a nest!” Birdie exclaimed.

“A nest!?” Wendy yelled, “but you’re covered in blood! Are you hurt?”

“Not my blood Carrot-top, used ta’ be in Old Man Sanders. That cock won’t be crowing ever again, I saw to it. He pizza’d his last hut.” She said, scraping her thumb feather across her throat.

The two nodded in silent approval.

“Wait,” Wendy exclaimed, “you’re pregnant too?”

The duo heard Ronald faint into the soft sand below and both shook their head.

“That’s just poor writing.” they said in unison.

Birdie croaked out a high pitched warble and started to pop a squat over the hill made out of the shards of someone’s massacred wedding. Wendy gasped.

“Do you need my help?”

Birdie was already bearing down, fluids of every color of the rainbow exited her nether regions.

“Nah, this isn’t my first rodeo Sweetheart.” She said, as the sound of flesh being torn made Wendy grimace. “You may want to move him tho.” Birdie motioned at Ronald, still unconscious. “I’m a squirter!”

Wendy pulled Ronald closer to the water, hoping the sound of the waves would drown out the squelching and screaming behind them. She laid Ronald on the wet sand. Hoping a splash of sea water would awaken her sleeping brutey. As she stepped closer to the waves, a sweet song rang out over the ripples. Her eyes fogged over and her head wobbled, enraptured in the vocals of an angel.

Her drooping lids were drawn across the water to a beautiful two-tailed mermaid serenading her on a rock. Wendy had to be with her, she was her one true love. She was all she ever needed to find happiness. She trudged through the waves, about to go under when the sound of a cannon broke the spell. She struggled to stay afloat and swim back to shore, still stunned and lost. She crawled onto the beach, looking back to see the siren was no longer there. It must have been a hallucination? she thought.

The cannon fired again, this time the cannonball soared over her head. She turned towards the source and couldn't believe her eyes. An oversized schooner ship quickly surging into the bay with its black sails emblazoned with a skull and crossbones billowing. A wall of sea water was coming at her, growing taller and faster. Her final words being, “I’m frosty Mcfucked.” before the wave crashed down on her.

Passive-aggressively Yours,

Phrique

1. Finger Lickin’ Freak Panty Dropper