Once, well over 50 years ago there was a Ronald MacDonald in America.
Well there were several really, the country was divided into various Ronald zones with a Ronald for each, the USA was effectively the United Ronald States of America at that time.
However this particular Ronald was considered by MacDonalds as THE BEST RONALD EVER!
He had executive privileges and at one point a rather large bonus plus had been given an extension on his contract that secured his employ quite dramatically.
It was a close call for this Ronald though because just before his recognition as THE BEST RONALD EVER!
He was about to be fired.
He was about to be let go for health reasons ostensibly.
The fact of the matter was he drank too much, he tended to teeter on his totterboard, tossed them back when he should have tibbled , he was an elbow bender of some repute.
Word had got back to corporate headquarters that this Ronald guzzled, gulped, chugged glugged, slugged, quaffed and swigged entirely too much, not to mention the unverified accounts that he was also a slurper.
A decision had been made, it was merely a matter of time. Time required for a new Ronald to seamlessly replace the old. It in these crevices between decision and action that middle management exists and let us take a moment to cheer for their crucial role in the world today and in this very narrative for Ronalds sake.
Spare also a moment to reflect on the pressures brought to bear, the psychological and philosophical burden bourne by a clown in the late 20th early 21st century whose vocation is to release people from their everyday and to experience joy while factors like an increase in a collective hopeless malaise is all apparent and the world itself becomes an increasingly unfunny place.
[we're talking funny Ha Ha here.]
No wonder he drank.
On the day he ascended into legend he was descending, his costume impeccable, his red yak-haired wig donned, in a Helicopter towards a MacDonalds carpark to highlight the festivities taking place in that franchise and give the children the climax to the event that could possibly equal and overcome their sugar saturation levels.
The children had gathered at the entrance to the Macdonalds, a safe distance away from the landing site and we can imagine them peering at the approaching dot in the sky excitedly, perhaps even keening. Certainly vibrating with gleeful anticipation.
Perhaps also the Helicopter did a flyby with Ronald waving from the opened passenger door, presumably contained in some sort of harness for insurance purposes.
This is all conjecture but what we do know is that at a certain altitude on the approach to the landing the Helicopter malfunctioned, lost power, spun around for a bit and then smashed to a final halt in the MacDonalds carpark in front of a large audience.
Of the Pilot and co-pilot one was killed instantly and the other seriously injured.
Ronalds support crew, the event manager, the PA etc undoubtedly received injuries also, fractures, concussions. The crash site was littered with debris.
The onlookers were in shock, things had most definitely taken a turn for the worse, in short shit got serious.
The children faced some very real and existential questions.
Had they just witnessed the death of Ronald MacDonald?
Was Ronald MacDonald dead in their local carpark?
The broken blades of the demolished vehicle had barely stopped rotating when out of the wreckage staggered a seemingly unscathed Ronald.
He waved, he smiled, he wended his way across the rubble in his large clown shoes towards the onlookers and upon reaching them carried on, inviting them to join him around the other side of the building, where the festivities could continue as scripted until he could be extracted for examination and he could, before that time, in some small way help heal their psyches.
He became Legend that day, there was a media blackout of the event generally and the story was only before now passed down among the Ronalds.
That my friends is the story about The Best Ronald Ever!
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