A burger contains a little piece of dozens

A burger contains a little piece of dozens of cows. It's like when olde-timey hostage-takers would send you a finger in the mail to assert their dominance, except I'm hungry and

conflicted. I'd prefer exclusivity in my burger--just the one cow, not a multicow mishmash. I raised the burger to my ear & imagined I could hear the gentle mooing of a great herd

of horse. Wait, that couldn't be right, I could swear the horses were mooing. I called the fast food manager over to my table to inspect the burger and held it up against his ear.

"Yup, that little shit is still mooing. I ain't never seen one quite that rare before" the slightly pudgy grease covered man before he eagerly removed the burger from my sight.

The pudgy grease-covered man was a Fast Food Magician. His whole act was magic involving fast food items. He once pulled an endless supply of Filet-o-fishe's from his sleeve at a

Whitehouse Press Conference (during the Clinton era, of course). All the politicians were suitably impressed, but the President was not. "It's not a Big Mac," he said sadly.

"It's a Cain Whopper with a pickle stopper". The atmosphere soured palpably among the politicos. The phrase was Clintonspeak and meant

Her into the arena, screaming bloody murder. The rant went on forever, until someone threw a Molotov cocktail at Clinton. "Shut up, I have heard enough!", someone shouted. Then,

to America's surprise, the Molotov flames turned Clinton into a squid-headed winged monster. And all of humanity became her feast, for she was the Eldest of the Elder Ones.