October 22, 1993

The other day my student loan finally came in, so like any good graduating senior, I went out and spent $600-$700 on CDs. There's something to be said for the visceral pleasure of knowing you own everything Mannheim Steamroller ever produced. I was in such a good mood that I even bought a couple dozen copies of "We Are The World" and donated them to the Cedar Valley Food Bank.

Yes sir, there's nothing like the joy of borrowing from the economy of the future to finance the sins of today. Heck, I could be dead tomorrow... and that's as good a reason as any to take everyone I know out for drinks.

And you'll be happy to know that, as always, the financial aid office disbursed my student loan check promptly and efficiently; I was only forced to produce an automatic weapon once during the entire exchange.

The best part about this whole student loan business is that I get another equally large check next semester, just in time to buy me a one-way plane ticket to Rio de Janeiro and a T-shirt that says "DEFAULT!!" in big red letters. God, I love this country.

Anyways, after buying CDs, clothes, a stereo, two small local businesses, and an elephant, I decided that it was time to start thinking about the future. I rushed home and placed a call to my mom.

"Hey, Mom," I said nonchalantly, "do you think you could... maybe... help me out with my rent this month? It's only $200..."

"Well, Scotto," my mom replied in that tired, blue-collar voice of hers, "things are tough this month, what with your grandmother's elbow replacement surgery and your little sister's seven hernias, but I think we can spare $200... provided we eat nothing but soy for a while."

"Great, Mom," I said cheerfully. "I'll let you get back to ironing the neighbor's shirts."

My future thus assured, I headed over to the used Winnebago lot to take one out for a test run. Along the way, I stopped at a McDonald's for supper. Since I was loaded to the brim with government money, I decided to play the one prank I've always wanted to play at McDonald's.

I ran inside, cut to the front of the line, and shouted: "I NEED SEVEN BIG MACS! D'YOU HEAR ME? SEVEN! AND I NEED 23 FISH FILETS, AND I NEED 57 TWIST CONES, AND I NEED A GROSS OF CHICKEN McNUGGETS, AND I NEED FOUR GALLONS OF ORANGE DRINK, AND A METRIC TON OF FRENCH FRIES AND I NEED THAT TO GO PLEASE!" I paused, then added, "AND I NEED A SPOON, TOO!"

I flashed a wad of cash to indicate I was serious. The entire store broke into a flurry of activity, trying to fill my voluminous order. A tremendous line gathered behind me, as there was no one to serve other customers. Panic began to set in, and I could feel the makings of a riot. I stood tall, however, confident in my knowledge that the trained, professional staff of my favorite timely cuisine establishment would come through for me. And indeed they did: within 20 minutes, I had my complete order delivered to me on a tray.

A hush fell over the crowd as I paid the enormous sum. But no sum was too enormous for this prank, for as soon as I had paid, I threw all the food on the floor and began stomping up and down on it, laughing like a hyena and frothing at the mouth.

"Stop that!" a silver-haired woman near me exclaimed. "There are starving people in Ethiopia!"

"Oh, really?" I said with a mischievous grin. "And I suppose if I ate all these Big Macs, those starving Ethiopians would feel so much better. I can see them now, saying to themselves, 'Mmmmmm, Scotto's eating Big Macs again, all right!' Or maybe we should just mail all these little burgers straight over there! I'm sure there's nothing they'd like more than a plane load of crusty, rotten McDonald's food!"

"Whuh... whuh..." the woman stammered.

"Yes, ma'am," I continued, "I've always said that if you want to do something about world hunger, the first thing you should do is head to McDonald's! Yeehah!" I grabbed a few people's hands and led the entire store in a rousing chorus of "Feed The World" before continuing on my way.

Boy, howdy, I thought to myself as I was leaving, if every day here on God's green earth could be just as fulfilling as that one, why... why, heck, I'd be pretty fulfilled. People say money doesn't buy happiness, but if it can buy Prozac, then it's the next best thing. So the next time you see any somber-looking yahoos walking the streets, stop and give them $20. Or kill them. Actually, I could care less. What was the question?