Home > Observations > Macdonalds @ Jurong Point

Macdonalds @ Jurong Point

Macdonalds is a temple to burgers, bad coffee and new gods. I’ve come here to drink in the information godhead; the ever-knowing and ever-judging internet. I am ultimately a parasite. Remember! Parasites do not have civil rights! We gave them up in order to go wireless.

There is a woman with her father in Macdonalds. They are sitting across me. The woman resembles Mrs. Potato – a potato decorated with cartoon features and matchsticks for limbs. The father is old and wasted. He totters on insect-thin legs when he got up to buy something from the counter.

 
She speaks in rapid-fire, eardrum-bursting Hokkien to her father. It sounds like she’s scolding him. He is distracted by the runway of people outside Macdonalds. She’s throwing money – green five dollar bills – at the old man. It bounces off his chest and onto the floor. He turns on her; all smiling and wrinkled.
 
She annoys me. She should be terminated. A foot planted into her mouth and teeth would fix it. But this is a temple for all – what rights do parasites have?
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