Wankers Corner, Oregon. A chest‑high wave of Diet‑Coke foam is already sloshing down Main Street, sweeping red‑and‑yellow Christmas bulbs through the froth like greasy confetti. The high‑school band pounds out “You McCan’t Touch This” by McHammer while townsfolk cheer the debut of the McMeem™—a custom meme you can swallow before the cashier even sighs that the soft‑serve machine is down again.
The Golden Arches has partnered with Gen-Z “McFluencers” to launch the McSnorts Fanta Challenge: inhale diet soda through one nostril and hashtag the footage #McTikTok.
“We just want folks to be safe,” said Deputy Ortiz. “Snortin’ Fanta isn’t illegal, but it sure ain’t McSmart.” For safety concerns, McCorporate now includes smelling salts for anyone who faints.
“I seen it on the Facebooks that the McMeem will make you go viral like that Laughing Chewbacca lady,” crows Aunt PeePaw, curb‑camped since four a.m. “Soon as I get mine I’m slappin’ it on The FaceBook—tags off, so Bill Gates’s Five‑G can’t McFact‑check me.”
Inside, Deputy Ortiz funnels the crowd toward proprietary Build‑A‑Bias kiosks. Each screen glistens with the same gut bacteria residue a 2019 UK study scraped from McTouch‑screens. Fecal matter be damned, customers slap their unwashed hands on the glass to craft memes delivered by the yellow corporate overlord clown, Ronald.
One mushroom‑headed teen called “McBeast” (5 subs, no clout) steadies his phone while an assistant locks the ring light. He begins filming a would‑be viral saga titled “Healing Through Limited‑Time Sauces.”
“The formula is McProprietary,” explains McMarketing Manager Dickcissel Songbird, flicking his Golden‑M lapel pin. “Equal parts confirmation bias, cognitive dissonance, and a whisper of vintage dog‑whistle seasoning.”
Every McMeem ships in Quarter‑Pounder paper already dusted with the E. coli and salmonella blend the USDA flagged between 2012 and 2019. Fine print warns: May clog arteries, timelines, and Thanksgiving dinner conversation. May also ccause bloody diarrhea…just sayin’…
Mayor Humboldt slices a ribbon fashioned from a two‑feet of ketchup packets. “We tried education, we tried broadband,” he tells our very tired reporter. “Tonight we fill brains with printable cheeseburgers. That is McProgress.”
McCorporate teases the next drops: McGaslight™—guarantees your childhood was perfect; McDogWhistle Nuggets™—audible only to Uncle Randy; and McMansplain Shake™—arrives half‑melted and explains why that’s fine.
Coming up after the break:
Local seaman comes on Wankers Corner City Council—claims swole fish, shrunk ethics. Film at 11.
Between the McScreens
The closing time‑lapse shows 2025 Ronald shedding the happy‑clown grin and growing into a boardroom tyrant. Pinstripe clown suit, golden grease‑smudged smile tuned to quarterly earnings. Watch each McStroke layer a little more dread, one frame at a time.
