depiction

So as some of you might have seen on television, or heard on the radio...

THE McRIB IS BACK!!!

Oh, the McRib. How you lie like something that lies. You try to bring me in with your barbequey glaze, your sweet awkwardness. I hate you. Why must you betray me?



I was lured in with your call.




You danced in front of my face like a whorish pixie.
Except for the fact that the pixies I know of do not smell of pickles, onions and cat food.
Yet, I want to hold you.
You just stare at me. You look like crap.



You seem like you were constructed by a maven of sauciness.
One whom, with a zest of mystery and dehydrated white onion, constructed you as so:


Now I realize it's all a lie. It makes me wonder what your sweet song means.
The same song you sing everywhere.




I see how it is. Always the same. It makes me wonder if "McRib is Back" is in verb or noun form!
I've seen you naked. I know how you roll.



You have spread your perfectly molded riblets all across the land.
Moreover, you have left your siren song far and wide.



New? You lie.
I must tell you this because you have made me sick. My stomach, taste buds. colon and heart are all broken. Well, not really my heart, it's indigestion.
I just wanted to warn you my distant love. I hate you. I don't want anything to do with you.
I don't want anything bad to happen to you.



I'll see you tomorrow.