It was a cold winter's eve. The wind rustled the few remaining leaves of the lone tree in my shitty back garden. The temperature was steadily dropping and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I looked at the stars, shining brightly when I noticed one was brighter than usual. It was getting even more bright. I went into my shitty back garden to investigate and climbed the lone tree. The "star" was getting bigger and bigger. Eventually I realised it was a meteor. I came to this conclusion after it hit me and set my sole tree ablaze.

I climbed out of the smouldering crater in the ground and looked at my arms, but they weren't my arms. Well, they were my arms, but they were different now, so they weren't the arms that were my arms prior to being struck down by a fiery rock. They were giant beetle arms. If only they had been Beatle arms instead, maybe I'd finally have been able to play guitar, but they weren't; they were big, black, fuzzy beetle arms.

I checked my reflection in the glass in the ground that used to be dirt but had become superheated from the motherfucking meteor that hit it. I was completely beetle. It wasn't fun. I liked my old body. Sure, I was impotent and had a ruptured anal sphincter, but it was my body. It was a human body. I didn't really think there were that many women out there looking for a six foot tall beetle to be their lover, and I didn't really want to meet those that did want one.

I took off into the night, screaming phrases such as, "The wind! It curdles my broth!" and, "Jesus fucking Christ, I've been turned into a beetle!" Nobody paid any attention as they couldn't see my hideous form in the dark. They simply thought to themselves, "That's mad old Barry at it again... what a shame." I figured I had to do something to save myself. Something to make me human again. I thought that I should perhaps consult a scientist or mage. Instead, I went to McDonalds.

I thrust my way through the doors of the great restaurant and began to examine the EuroSaver menu. Hamburger, €1. Two Apple Pies, €1. Twisty Fries, €1. Double Cheeserburger, €2. 4 Chicken McNuggets and Regular Fries, €2. McChicken Sandwich, €2. I decided on a McChicken Sandwich and Twisty Fries, totalling at €3. Unfortunately, I'd been so engrossed in the selection process I had not noticed the screams of terror of patrons and staff alike as they fled the restaurant in panic.

I hopped the counter of the now deserted rapid eatery and found a very large quanity of just cooked Twisty Fries. I took it upon myself to down as many as I could. I finished off about 70% of the fries and decided to put the other 30% down my pants. I danced a little to the sounds of The Smiths with spiced chips in my trousers. It was fun. I decided to top everything off with a delicious McChicken Sandwich, dripped with mayonnaise. I savoured every bite of that delicious pseudochicken burger and when I was done I noticed that I was no longer a beetle, but a human.

McDonalds has cured me. I was whole again. I was happy. My pants were full of fries. I took off into the night screaming things like, "The pants! They are spiced to perfection!" and, "Thank Riker, I'm me again!" Once more, the neighbours didn't notice my antics. I returned home and ate the 30% of fries in my pants, though I lost about 5% of those dancing.

The fries were good. Damn good.