Michael knew today had to be the day. The day when his suffering ended, so he may finally rest peacefully after weeks of sleep deprivation and a gradual development of lunacy. For the McRib™ was back, and nobody would dare stand in his way of buying one after several weeks of saving money to pay for such a delicacy, naturally with medium fries and a drink.
Strutting down the streets of Brooklyn, NY with bags under his eyes and clothes two weeks overdue for a wash, Michael knew he had it made. He was on his way to Bed-Stuy’s street corner McDonald’s to get that McRib combo for $5.15 (tax included) and nobody could stop him.
“Spare some change?” he heard a man, whose voice drier than California in recent years, say behind him. 
Not since his discovery of the cancellation of “Chuck” did Michael feel this much dread in his heart. To his dismay, Michael turned around and saw a homeless man sitting next to a trashcan on the corner of Fulton and Nostrand, just outside the pizza parlor. Though he wanted to help out, his mind was already set on buying himself that McRib. “Sorry,” he said, “I don’t have anything.”
“Sure you do,” the man said, “I seen you counting some singles and change on your way over here. Please, anything would help.”
A crafty one, this man was. Michael knew his simple lies wouldn’t be enough to get him out of this mess. No, he needed to resort to more drastic measures so he could slip away and resume his trek to the nearby McD’s. “Look over there,” he said, “I think I see a pot of gold in the middle of the street.”
But he didn’t look over there. Not at all. It’s as if he knew Michael wasn’t being truthful.
Michael never did have a very convincing poker face, and he knew it. Regardless, nobody should have been able to resist the urge to see if there was really a pot full of gold lying in the street or not. Regardless, he knew there was only one way out of this mess at this point. Michael broke into a sprint in the opposite direction of the homeless man for a solid 30 seconds before his heart and lungs nearly gave out, never looking back.
20 minutes and two near-blackouts later, Michael finally gathered the strength to carry on his mission. With McDonald’s in sight, there was no stopping him now. As he opened the stained glass double doors and smelled the cholesterol in the air, Michael felt right at home. With only one person ahead of him in line, he was home-free.
“Three McRibs, a 20 piece nuggets and a large drink, please.” He heard the morbidly obese gentleman in front of him, who smelled of butter and Halls’ lemon flavored cough drops, muster up the strength to say. After handing over $16.12 to the disgusted cashier, he went to fill his cup up with a little bit of every drink at the soft drink machine, a sure sign of a serial killer in the making.
“Hey, how ya doin?” Michael said in an overzealous manner. “Can I get the McRib combo?”
“Sorry sir,” the cashier said in an obviously uncaring tone, “that’s the last of our McRib patties. We probably won’t be getting a new shipment for a couple days.”
Devastated as could be, Michael didn’t know what to do. After all, what else could an undereducated 17 year old feel after his dreams have been crushed? Just before the tears started rolling out, he heard the cashier call out the buttery man’s order, ready for claim.
Just like the homeless man who called out to him, Michael begged the fat man to spare one McRib, as he would still have two to spare.
“Sorry bud,” the man said, “I bought one of these for someone else and I want the other two.”
“Come on,” Michael pleaded, “can’t you spare another one? You still have the nuggets.”
In the same fashion Michael did, the man broke into a sprint out through the exit to avoid any problems. Though the man’s sprint could be described as something similar to a penguin’s aggressive waddling, Michael got the message: what goes around comes around.
On his way home, as he sulked in his misery, Michael noticed something. As he turned his head over towards the pizza parlor from earlier, he saw the same man at McDonald’s giving the same homeless man he met a McRib. He realized the rib he was saving was for the homeless man he refused to help out.
Understanding the mistakes he made, Michael finally decided to own up and apologize to the homeless man for his disappearance and false claims of pots of gold. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t mad, instead grateful that he was even willing to take the time to apologize to him. And so as the fat butterman generously gave Michael the other extra rib, all three of them sat in harmony and slight discomfort, eating those god given gifts called the McRibs.