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Human and machine work in unity
Beep, buzz, slam. Grinding in synchronization to a rhythm unique
Two Macs, calls production manager,
Mc Donald’s Mc happy Smile melting from his face like a chocolate Sunday on a hot summers day.
The human robots continue, Mc Donald’s stripes, cascading like dripping mayonnaise down neatly pressed shirts, before reaching golden and gleaming utility belts.
Beads of sweat run down Mc happy faces, before wiped away by gloved Hands.
As sterile fluorescent light reflects from greasy tiles.
Illuminating Block like chicken portions, yellow as golden arches, hard as the plastic Of Ronald himself.
Sliding into metal trays, before spit, spurt, sizzle, as they sink deep down into hot uncharted fry vats.
Each crew member another firing piston in the Mc happy machine.
The clock is ticking. Red digits count down precious time before another, Sweet apple pie, delicious Mc chicken, or if French is your preference Fillet o fish.
The restaurant itself screams with American tackiness.
Swirling chairs of children, on sugar highs,
Elderly couples, slowly masticating their apple pies.
Never ask for chips, they only have Mc Fries
Never just ask for fries.
Would you like a drink with that?
The Mc robot spits out with politeness, over exuberant, and artificial.
Programmed and brainwashed for the ultimate up-sell.
The machine whirrs on, the dollar pours in
Another American marketing success?
No, simply Australia’s never ending quest for the safe, bland, and tasteless.

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