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Desperate Measures - Finale - McGriddle Fan Fic
March 2010
 
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staffordvw:
mcgriddlefanfic
mcgriddlefanfic
McGriddle Fan Fiction
Fri, Apr. 21st, 2006 03:15 pm
Desperate Measures - Finale

Grant was furious as he stepped out of his black Cadillac El Dorado into the waning sunlight. The past week had been the most unsatisfying of his professional career. Man was said to be the greatest prey, the most thrilling animal to hunt. After years spent rising to the peak of his craft, Grant looked forward to the experience of tracking this quarry and closing in for a calculated end game. But all week long Mister Morgan Freaking Spurlock had been traipsing around the city, a dandy in a light sweater, smiling and greeting strangers who fawned and giggled over him. It made Grant sick. It was like Theodore Roosevelt looking out the White House window one day to find a lion tending the garden.

Now here was the prey, standing with a moronic smile on his face as if the entire world was made of cupcakes and unicorns. Grant strode quickly over to the bemused Morgan Spurlock, grabbed him soundly by the mustache, and swung him violently into the rear passenger side door of his car.

Morgan Spurlock's vision flashed quickly from pink to red and then went black.

"Sorry, let me get that for you." Grant grabbed the prostrate film-maker by the shoulders and hurled him back onto the sidewalk allowing him some personal time to bleed. Opening the door, Grant stuffed his unconscious bounty into the back seat and quickly zip-tied his hands and feet.

Tires shrieked on the dusty pavement as Grant raced to McHeadquarters. If it were up to him, and it was, he would not be done with this job soon enough. He didn't know what would happen to the film-maker once he was turned over and he didn't care.

**********

The board room at McHeadquarters was abuzz. It wasn't often that the board members could revel in such triumph as had befallen them this day. They talked excitedly to eachother in anticipation of the coming celebration.

A hush fell over the gathering as a food service cart was pushed into the room by a test kitchen peon. The cart carried eighteen freshly made McGriddle breakfast sandwiches gleaming moistly in their grease-soaked shrouds. The members of the board rushed to the cart to each grab a sandwich, furiously tearing at the familiar paper wrapper and tossing it to the floor. They moaned in satisfaction as each one savored their special recipe for corporate justice.


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