Ann Marie Lacee works at McDonalds and she has asked me to meet her there when her shift ends at 10 pm. 

She told me to announce my arrival using the drive-up.

I steer my vintage Cadillac alongside the life-sized plastic Ronald McDonald and when I push the button my Caddy window sluggishly goes down and before it's fully down a voice coming out from the speaker (hanging from a wire) says:

"Can I take your order?"

I say:

"Ann?"

"Would you like to order, sir?"

I say:

"Would you please tell Ann that Norm is here?"

She says:

"One moment please."

It feels like I'm standing in the lobby of a New York Apartment building and the concierge is announcing me to one of the residents.  Maybe two minutes pass and when they've passed from the speaker I hear:

"Hi Norm park your car I'll let you in."

The restaurant closes at 10 pm (can't go inside to order or eat) but the drive-up is open 24 hours. 

When I get to the door Ann is standing behind the glass and she is smiling and while she is smiling she is turning a key using her good female hands.

"How are you?" she says while holding the door for your correspondent.

"How are you?" I say then pushing my lips to her cheek.

"Let's talk in the kids PlayPlace," she says and when we're inside she locks the door behind us.

I say:

"You look cute in your uniform."

She says:

"Try to catch me, Norman."

She's ran off and climbed inside the giant plastic tube thing that's situated inside the PlayPlace and I've gone after her and while the two of us are moving about inside the maze of tubes designed for smaller people she keeps saying, "I'm here Norman."

When I do find her she's laying on her stomach and she's smiling and it feels like maybe she wants to do something and I can feel my prick getting bigger and that's bad because I'm having trouble moving through the pipes without an erection.

She says:

"I'm glad you're here."

I say:

"Me too."

I'm massaging her pie and while I'm massaging her pie she begins to cry and I figure she's crying because it feels good but that's not it and instead she pulls out a picture and tells me that her father was eaten by serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer in 1991.

I'm still massaging her pie and while I'm doing it I'm thinking about how she smells like french fries and while I'm thinking that she smells like fries I'm looking at the photo and while I'm looking at it she's crying and while she's crying her hips are moving up and down.

I say:

"What is this?"

"It's a photo of my fathers head," she says.  "They found it on a shelf in a refrigerator between a pitcher of orange Tang and a baloney sandwich wrapped in wax paper. (It was a black and white photograph and it was out of focus and it looked more like a rotting pumpkin lying alongside a gravel road than the face of a man)

I'm still massaging her pie and while I'm moving it about she says:

"They found the rest of his body in an acid filled vat lying atop a wooden case of Faygo Red Pop."

I say:
 
"No offense but it looks like your dad is smiling."

I am taking off her shirt and while I am she says:

"Daddy loved baloney.  When I was in middle school he bought a big hunk of Smith's baloney and carved it to look like the head of Abraham Lincoln but when I took it to school it got soft and melted and ended up looking like a pink pile of shit."

I say:

"This is maybe the best drive-up service I've ever gotten."

She says:

"Can I take your order, honey?"


NOTE:  She told me that her father was Oli Lacee.  I researched it and Oliver Lacy was eaten by Jeffery Dahmer in 1991 (but Oli Lacee was not. I think she lied so that she could get into my pants).  Her story seemed to fuel our sexual frenzy.  The plastic pipes allowed light from the outside overhead lights to bleed through giving our pumping session a kind of retro psychedelic feel.  When we were leaving she slid down one of the pipes and went face first into a gumball machine telling me it was probably because I had made her, "So wet," making everything slippery.  When we got outside she acted like she hardly knew me and before I had a chance to ask for another date she had driven off.

Whore.


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