GS
Gavin Shaleam
Jan 2, 2026
Every time I go to McDonald’s on Parmer I end up crying violently in the parking lot, deeply disheartened by the lack of the exquisite, my beloved, McFlurry. Every time, the empty, soulless suits of McDonalds Corporate see fit to leave the world aching with the pain felt in absence of their greatest creation, all because those penny pinchers don’t have a care in the world to fix their ice cream machine. Never do I cry regarding any matter, the exception being when I come to McDonalds, any McDonalds, hoping against hope, deluding myself like Charles Lecrelc at Ferrari, thinking this time will be different, that they’ll finally fix their ice cream machine, that I may be reunited with my beloved McFlurry at last. But alas, every time, such as with Leclercs DQs all to Ferraris fault, I am left alone in the parking lot, missing the presence of my Chocolate McFlurry, for what else could I possible think to share with my slightly less beloved dog Laney, besides that?
Update: Laney is at the vet
Update: Laney has passed due to chocolate poisoning? Never heard of that! The McDonalds workers must have poisoned my McFlurry out of spite when I had finally driven to my 53rd location and managed to find a working ice cream machine!
Update: Charles Leclerc got DQd, Lance Stroll took pole.
Update: My friend is suspicious about my dog, I think he’s into me.
Summary: LowK I only go back for the Chocolate McFlurry. The vibe is really chill too, except when the workers are poisoning your McFlurries. Always get dine in.