It was a fine Easter Monday morning when Gary Coleman stepped off his plane in Dublin Airport. His flight from JFK was long and baby-filled. The full Irish breakfast he was provided left him wanting just that little bit more, but he was unwilling to pay nearly ten dollars for a second breakfast. Apparently they only serve full ones, no halves allowed. The guy sitting next to him didn’t want to split one, so he just decided to wait to go to McDonald’s, his favourite restaurant.
He made the long journey to baggage claim. There were travelators but they all went in the opposite direction that he was walking. He tried to get one of the security guys to give him a lift in his little airport car, but he confused the megastar that is Gary Coleman for a lost child. After that humiliation Gary decided to walk it alone. He reached the large baggage claim hall and waited for his suitcase.
And waited.
And waited.
He took a short break to go to the bathroom.
And waited.
After twelve hours he figured his bag wasn’t coming. He was dying of hunger and went to the information desk to ask where his albino tiger had gone. The attendant laughed at him. There’s no way he could have put a tiger on an airplane. Gary insisted otherwise. The attendant told him to stop wasting her time and had him removed from the baggage hall.
He was pushed into arrivals and smelled the sweet aroma of Maccy D’s. He wandered far and wide, near and narrow. He found the heavenly oasis tucked away in the airport. He had climbed through several air ducts and dodged many security guards to get to it, but he was finally there. He queued up and licked his lips at the thought of eating a McChicken Sandwich.
The queue was moving slowly. It was nearly three am and there was only one person working, but many hunger plane-goers awaiting their various meals that may or may not contain real meat. Gary was moving through the queue. He was second from the top. The woman in front of him ordered twelve Happy Meals for her three chubby children. Gary waited.
The ugly woman took her feast away and it was Gary’s turn to order. He was about to open his mouth when a tall, loudmouthed man cut ahead of him. “Gizzus sum chicken nuggats!” he half-shouted. Gary was angry. He had queued up and wanted his pseudo-chicken burger with week-old mayonnaise. Gary closed his eyes and concentrated.
The man argued with the McDonald’s slave while Gary massaged his temples. He made a psychic connection with his pet tiger, Phillip. The tiger was stowed aboard the plane and heard Gary’s call. He ripped apart his hiding place and dove out of the plane’s underbelly, mauling the throwers nearby.
He ran with maximum speed towards McDonald’s to save Gary, his best friend and master. The man got his McChicken Nuggets and sat down. Gary was finally served, after breaking off the connection with Phillip. He got his large McChicken Sandwich meal (Supersize no longer being an option due to McDonald’s new ‘healthy’ stance). He sat down at a table and tucked in.
As he was about to take that first bite of the sandwich he heard screaming from outside the restaurant. Phillip ran into McDonald’s and pounced on the line-cutter, knocking several tables over. Phillip ripped the innocent ignoramus asunder. There was panic in the restaurant. Gary had forgotten about it after the man sat down. Oops.
Gary stood up and told Phillip to stop. Security ran in and shot the raging tiger. Gary looked on as his favourite pet was riddled with bullets. He fell to his knees and screamed in anger. Anger and hunger. He looked up at the three offending security guards and ran at them, hissing like a snake getting an enema. He jumped high into the air and mauled one of the guards’ faces.
He looked up in a rage at the other two guards and paused, pondering which to murder next. The two guards raised their weapons and shot Gary Coleman. He fell in the pool of blood left by the other guard. He took his last breath and regretted never getting to eat his sandwich. He just wanted that damn sandwich so much. Those bastards.