ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Commercial & Creative Writing»
  • Creative Writing

The Desert Cannibal

Updated on September 5, 2015
Source

I was on the verge of death. It had been ten days since I departed on my treacherous journey through the vast and empty desert. The first several days went as planned. Then, on the fifth day, a gang of desert ninjas stole all of my food. I had not eaten so much as a crumb since, and I was on the brink of starvation. Aside from the ninjas, I had not seen another human being since my departure. Hundreds of miles from civilization, and no vegetation in sight, I was beginning to lose all hope.

That’s when I saw something in the distance. It appeared to be some kind of man-made structure. My stomach growling ferociously, I ran towards the object. As I drew closer, it became clear that this was some sort of building. I then noticed the golden arch, and that’s when it hit me. This was a McDonalds. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had managed to find cheap and delicious food in the absolute middle of nowhere. Not one person, one road, one house for hundreds of miles, and yet, there was my favorite restaurant right in front of me. I looked at my watch. It was 10:25 AM. I still had five minutes to order a McGriddle. It was just too good to be true. I sprinted towards the entrance and swung open the door.

What I saw next was nothing short of horrifying. The restaurant was absolutely packed, and the line must have had at least fifty or so people. I was so hungry that I might have died while waiting in line. But what choice did I have? I hopped in line and began waiting my turn, trying desperately to take my mind off my extreme hunger. But with my stomach growling louder and louder, and the hour of death drawing ever closer, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my mouth, leaned towards the guy standing and front of me, and took a bite of him. It was the greatest thing I had ever tasted. He turned around and looked at me, his expression somewhat disgruntled. “Please don’t do that”, he said.

“Okay”, I replied. Hoping to avoid further confrontation, I continued to wait my turn in line, trying not to think about the delicious man in front of me. “Just be patient,” I told myself. “You’ll get your food in no time.” But the temptation proved too much. I leaned forward and took another bite of him. Again, he turned around. In an even more agitated tone of voice, he once more asked me to stop eating him. I told him I was sorry, and I continued to wait my turn. I mustered all of my strength, trying to think of anything besides food. But the hunger I felt was simply overpowering. I then took yet another bite of him. He turned around, this time appearing absolutely furious. He then reached into his jacket, pulled out a gun, and pointed it at my head. “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU”, he shouted.

“PLEASE DON’T SHOOT,” I pleaded. I was sure that I was going to die. But then I had an idea. I offered to let him take a bite of me if he spared my life. He thought about it for a second, and then slowly took his finger off the trigger. Nodding in agreement, he proceeded to take a bite of me. His anger having dissipated, he put his gun away, turned around, and continued to wait in line. A wave of relief washed over me, as I had just narrowly escaped death. But the unbearable hunger still consumed me. I then leaned forward with my mouth open, this time swallowing him whole, so he couldn’t retaliate. I had never tasted anything so delicious in my life. Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, I saw somebody charging at me. It was Ronald McDonald, and he had a baseball bat in his hands. Now right in front of me, he lifted the bat and swung it right at my head. I fell instantly to the ground, and everything went blank.

When I regained consciousness, I was in what appeared to be some sort of dungeon. Dark and damp, it looked like something out of the Dark Ages. There were large metal hooks hanging from the ceiling, their silhouette cast on the corroded stone wall. I tried to run, but I was tied to a chair. I then heard footsteps behind me. “So you think you can just eat my customers, huh? You little shit,” said a deep, ominous voice. The man then stepped in front of me. It was Ronald McDonald, and he had a power drill in his hand. “That’s the last mistake you’ll ever make,” he said. He then turned on the drill and pointed it at my head.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!!! I’LL DO ANYTHING!!!” I screamed. In a state of terror, I closed my eyes, bracing for an excruciating death. Suddenly, the sound of the power drill stopped, and everything went silent. Shaken and confused, I opened my eyes. Ronald McDonald was staring at the tattoo on my arm. It was a tattoo of the golden arch, the symbol for McDonalds. I told him about how much I loved McDonalds, and how I had gone there nearly every day since I was a child. Tears rolling from his eyes, he put the drill down and untied me. We then drank some beers and talked for hours about our favorite McDonald’s recipes, laughing and smiling the entire time. We really kicked it off. Late that night, after being treated to a free Big Mac, I stood at the doorway to the restaurant, ready to continue my journey through the desert. Ronald, his eyes red from tears, shook my hand and wished me luck. I thanked him for his generosity and said goodbye. Then I opened my mouth and swallowed him whole. He was even more delicious than the guy waiting in line.

Comments

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.