McToast

Some of the most hilarious moments in life are just that - moments. If one should happen to be as cynical as I am, these moments tend to occur all too frequently in the hilarity of offense inadvertently given to people innocently in my path: a function of a personality that is too verbose and too candid.
The other day, Marianne and I took to one of our frequent visits to McDonald's. Yeah, yeah, yeah, . . . I know - "that's gross", "so unhealthy", "Do you know what's in that stuff!?" Blah blah blah. I can read the sensational internet tabloids as well as the next guy but before it became a multi-national corporate target of every leftist vegan hippy on the planet, it was just another burger joint, and ultimately that shit tastes sooooooooo goooooooood when you're hungry that I have long since stopped counting that small evil amongst my sins because I assure you that my reckoning in hell will have a long list of far greater weights of concern.
I digress.
Anyways, as Marianne waited in line, I sprinted off for a much needed visit to the lavatory. After completing my bathroom transaction, unlike most of the disgusting male half of our species, I washed my hands. Just as I reached for some paper towel, someone else entered the washroom behind me. I paid little heed to him, as you might expect, and I noticed that the paper towel dispenser was empty. I reached for the other paper towel dispenser only to discover it was also empty. Frustrated, I entered one of the stalls and attempted the always less-than-satisfying effort to dry my hands with one-ply bulk-purchased toilet paper. The toilet paper roll was also empty. As I emerged from the stall wiping my hands on the front of my pants, the fellow who had entered after me verbalized his observation that there was not any paper towel. Without looking up, I offered an honest response. "Yeah, well, what do ya expect? It doesn't take an I.Q. much higher than toast to get a job at McDonald's." The pregnant silence that ensued gave me cause to look up curiously. I found myself face to face with what would have been an indignant expression on a man of any other vocation but instead was met by the confused expression of the Poster Boy of McDonald's employees. He was not wearing a uniform but I sensed that he was imminently going to be. I paused and realized my faux pas. Then I proceeded in typical fashion by further realizing that I didn't give a rat's ass if this guy was offended, or if he understood me, or if he had even heard me for that matter. My blank expression somehow both slowly and instantly turned into a half-cocked, awkward-moment frown of sorts followed by the sound of realization. "Eeeeeeeeeeuuuuuuuum. Riiiiiiiiiiight. Ya know what? Never mind." I rushed past him and back into the queue with Marianne.
Minutes later I spied the same fellow flipping burgers behind the very counter from which I was ordering. He was clearly completely oblivious to the offense I had accidentally given which was good for both of us. It was good for me because it saved me worrying that he had spit in my hamburger, and it was good for him because blissful ignorance is surely a happier place than offended indignance, especially at the beginning of a long and difficult shift at the golden arches. I told Marianne the tale and she had a good laugh when she looked at the guy - she is well known for being as sensitive as I am.
Upon visiting the lavatory one more time before leaving the establishment, I was not at all surprised to discover that there was still no paper towel nor toilet paper to be found.

See you in hell,
Shakes.