McDonald’s Mansion
Conference Room


The room was dark and packed full of mafia lords and henchmen of a wide variety. Second-hand smoke and the smell of grease permeated the chamber along with the cheesy stench of none other than Pizza the Hut. The fat bastard had a whole corner of the room to himself and his goons. If one didn’t think the boss was big enough, the eight-foot blob was still eating, munching on a gooey calzone as tomato sauce dripped between his sagging man-cleavage.

The man’s girth was shrouded in a white tank and flour-powdered apron. His grey sweat pants were snug about the bulging tires of fat that made up his legs as his massive hands continued to cram the half-moon pizza into his gob.

With cheeks swollen with bread, cheese, and sausage, he grunted, “Smells like a pig sty in here!”

The Dairy Queen stepped through the door to stop in the doorway. Her eyes fluttered and her nose curled in disgust.

“What is that god awful smell?” she asked. She then fanned her black-gloved hand before her face and weaved her way past the minions, ignoring the cat calls that afflicted her ears. Behind her in blue, pink, and white suits were her Blizzardmen. She brushed her fingers down her black dress before sliding her round rump into one of the black leather chairs that surrounded a burnished, oval office table.

With a vexed huff, she wheeled closer to it and crossed her slender arms beneath her swollen bosom. The Subway Boys were grinning, thankful to have sat across from the mistress for as she leaned forward to rest her aching back, her plump breasts swelled and her tight cleavage became more prominent. It was like gazing at cantaloupes in a grocery store. The white hints of lingerie framed them nicely from behind the deep V-collar of her dress. Her breasts were more appetizing to gander at than the ones of Huts, and they represented the second interpretation of her name: Dairy Queen.

Jade-green eyes gleamed from beneath her long, thick lashes as she regarded the drooling boys across from her. With a dismissive turn of her cheek, she sighed and queried, “Where’s that damn clown? Get this meeting over with already. I can’t stand to be here any longer.”

“What’s wrong Queen? Not cold enough for you,” the twins Ben and Jerry spoke in unison.

The conference room became so loud with roars, shouts, and laughter that no one could hear themselves. It was a chamber of deafening din that as soon as a large black man wearing a purple ski mask entered the room, instantly collapsed into silence.

To the right of a projector screen was a blue door with the golden, McDonald’s M on it. After Grimace had quietly stepped through the door, Birdie followed in her vibrant-pink get-up. All eyes were on the door that was left agape with anticipation. Ronald McDonald would be coming through that door soon—so they thought…

What they all hadn’t expected was for the man to suddenly rise at the head of the table with his arms extended.

“BOO!” the clown screamed.

His eyes then widened in terror when he saw men drawing their guns in startled reflex. A volley of fries, ice cream scoops, and pickles began flying toward him. Ronald and his two bodyguards took shelter behind the table as the barrage went on for a full one minute. When the last pickle had struck the back wall, the clown’s red afro first rose from behind the table, being the testing dummy for if the coast was clear, and then Ronald’s eyes followed, narrowed and glaring at the thugs.

Rising again with a deep frown, his expression instantly changed into one of amusement as he pointed across the room at the group.

“Ha, ha, ha! Scared~you~!” The Don teased in a sing-song voice.

Ronald then shot his arms into the air and swung his hips right and then left as two, large New York-style pizzas sliced into the projector screen behind him. The clown’s teeth were grit tensely in suspense as he gazed across the room at the smirking Pizza the Hut.

“Late aren’t we? I thought being on time was your kind of thing,” Ronald jested.

The joke excited a few chuckles from the group of cut-throats that made Ronald feel like he’s done his job. Lowering his arms, he grasped his red tie and straightened it.

Dairy Queen rested her cheek upon her palm as she regarded The Don with a sensual smile.

“Always the card, aren’t you McDonald?” she purred.

Ronald grinned devilishly and sent the queen a wink. “We love to see you smile, Baby. So…”

Putting all jokes aside, Ronald’s face became solemn with the seriousness that called for a meeting of several people he’d rather see blown out the water of business.

“I’m sure you all know why I’ve called you here…” he began.

“Always the card, aren’t you McDonald?” . Cheng couldn't help but roll her dark coal colored eyes with disgust as the blonde "Queenie" dipped down a little more and exposed her breasts, all the while giving flirtatious looks over at Ron. "Sānbā" Cheng would mumble underneath her breath, giving a small devilish grin over to her right where Pan-Pan was sitting, merrily eating his way through a whole box of almond cookies. Cheng would pull back her right arm swiftly before giving Pan-Pan a firm smack to the shoulder and causing several cookies to drop onto the floor. Her subordinates eyes would widen in both horror and regret as he reached down to grab the cookies." But....why are we here Cheng-gu,......is it about the other restaurants?" Pan-Pans accent was thick enough that it caused several people, including the Ben and Jerry brothers to glance in their direction. Cheng gave the two a firm "mind your own damn business" look before turning back to Pan.

"Bái chī, were here to discuss the end of us ! So stop shoveling food into your mouth and listen properly." Cheng would snap at him and then silently tap her finger nails on the conference table before her. She felt a tad bit bad about snapping so much at Pan-Pan, but the fact he couldn't remember even the simplest of things was enough to royally piss her off. While she tapped impatiently, she couldn't help but think of the current situation she was in. Not only was she constantly battling asian restaurants that were rapidly invading her turf, but now she had fucking Walmart to deal with?Really? At first, Cheng merely though it was going to be like another Kmart or something. Sure some people would go, but for lawn chairs and cheap soda. Of course, she had no idea they were planning to sell everything, and for ridiculously low prices. Not only that but for some reason one of her managers had decided it would be a "good" idea to sell their packaged frozen Panda Express Orange Chicken, to Walmart. Of course people would stop buying their chicken at the actual restaurant if Walmart was selling it for 1.95 a package. Not to mention the smiley faced gang bangers who were trying to make a name for themselves. Apparently people didn't remember who the true ninjas were, so she would have to refresh their memory. The mere thought of it made bile rise up in the young womans throat, and her artfully manicured nails dig into the table as a small growl ripped through her chest. The situation didn't ease up anymore, especially with the idiots firing off their weapons while she merely stared them all down before looking back to Pan-Pan.

After a bit more flirting between the clown and the Whorey Queen, Cheng's eyes would turn towards Ron and she would inch forward, placing her hands clasped together in front of her.

“I’m sure you all know why I’ve called you here…” Ron would say in his more serious voice, letting everyone in the room now that the time to mess around was over. With a small tilt of her head, Cheng would open her tiny mouth to speak, still looking directly at the clown." I should hope we all know why were here, though I'm sure some of us must have the attention span of a fly, so it might be good to repeat it Ron dear." Everyone knew Cheng had beef with the Queen ever since she had slept with one of Cheng's employees and he had leaked one of the recipes to her. It was true that Cheng was tiny, but she had beat the living hell out of Queenie that day and she made sure she never forgot it either.

Churro 'Hitgurl'
McDonald's Confernce room

Carelessly acid-green eyes stared at a spot on the conference table of Ronald The Don’s Mansion. Her queer expression showed she was partially horrified and mostly disgusted. From where she sat, the view wasn’t too pretty. The sickening smell of grease and cheese mixed with sweat caused her to stifle a gag every once in a while. Her arms were braced, palms on the table, as if holding herself in position so as not to faint, which she partially felt like doing. Basically everything about her spelled out that she did not want to be there.

Arguably worse than the smell of Pizza The Hut, was the way he looked, she dared not glance at him twice, and he had so far paid her no heed either, she hoped it would stay that way. But at the very least, she could at least say that she didn’t have the nose of a dog, which the Chihuahua sitting on her lap did, his nose was buried in her skirts in an attempt to drown out the putrescence with his young charge’s perfume, a tactic that seemed to be working because he was still conscious.

Pizza The Hut was so fat that even his words came out strangely breathless, he commented on the room smelling like a pig-sty. ’OH GOD I WONDER WHY?!?’ she wished she could scream that, but instead only her eye could twitch in response to the comment, she wanted to be invisible more than she wanted to be snarky, she sank lower into the seat she was already slouching into.

In came The Dairy Queen, a woman oozing sensuality and a slight smell of milk. She too noticed the smell, and was smart enough to sit away from it. Why wasn’t Cinnamon smart enough to sit away from the smell? Well, frankly she was hoping she could get through this meeting with hardly anyone noticing she was there instead of her Uncle, a man who was known for being utterly silent unless spoken too, and even then sometimes he just gave a gesture, he was a man who could fade into the background and yet occupy the room with his wandering eyes, taking in information. And so Cinnamon had taken the seat farthest from the door, the very back of the room, where the pizza monstrosity sat. Hiding her presence from either side were the suited henchmen who wore bright suits with varying color depending on their ranking skill. With her were the Taco Supreme’s, brown undershirts, green vest, orange-yellow jacket, red pants, and white tie. All the colors of the ingredients to a Taco Supreme, Taco Bell was a very color coordinated Mafia. Things were expected to be so organized with a business who specialized in sauce chemistry of course.

Anyway back to The Dairy Queen, Cinnamon had little interest in her presence, about as much as she had interest in the Subway Boys, who used to be three until the oldest got a nice Fire-Roasted package one morning. But who’s bragging?

No one took notice of her as they spoke loudly amongst themselves, and the closely huddled Taco Bell Mafia kept to themselves, though the proximity was kind of stifling, it as all at her orders however.

Silence fell upon the room once Grimace stepped in, Ronald Mcdonald’s cronny, along with Birdie. She couldn’t help but glance at the door, expecting, before a ‘boo’ that made her bare her teeth and jump slightly echoed about the room. “Eh! Don’t crush me buta!” The Chihuahua on her lap hissed quietly, his head now sore. Cinnamon retracted her arms and sank even lower into her seat, flipping the dog off but rubbing his head tenderly. Meanwhile above the table her henchman had angrily drawn their lava-sauce pistols, but had not fired, they let everyone else do that for them. Her Taco Supreme’s were tactful bastards. They put their weapons away after the volley stopped. Their young charge was staring under the table at Grimace, Birdie and Ronald as they took shelter, they didn’t seem to notice her though. She scrutinized their image for a full minute, wondering what all the hubbub was about with these people. Why the hell did they do what they did?

Anyway the moment passed and all three rose up, Pizza The Hut saw his chance at through his two cents in, or rather two pizza’s. They failed to hit their target. But Ronald did get a slight smirk from Cinnamon as he joked at the grotesque man. She allowed her eyes to peek above the table, but went no further. “Mi hija, your posture is terrible, sit up.” Again the Talking Chihuahua whispered to Cinnamon, she shut him up by clamping his muzzle between her thin fingers with a lace-gloved hand.

She listened intently to the quippy remarks being sent back and forth between Bosses, waiting for anything important to be said. So far all the information to be had was that The Queen was a hoe, Panda-lady didn’t seem to like her, and Ronald had no aversion to huge tits. His switch to a serious tone went over her head however; as she didn’t really care about the tones of the voices of people she didn’t take seriously anyway.

“Yes, repetition perhaps for those of us unfamiliar with the full situation, we do have a kid in here after all. Regardless of how much she’s trying to hide….where’s the old Taco bastard? The least he could do is show some respect and come himself.” A rude slur of a voice sounded from Pizza The Hut’s fat mouth, to which Cinnamon stopped herself from acknowledging. She did have the sense to sit up in her chair however, as now all eyes turned to her. She shrugged uncomfortably and kept her hand clamped at the Dog in her lap, who wanted to tell off the pizza-jerk for speaking to a Belladona like that. Pizza Hut was under Taco Bell in sales after all, who the hell did he think he was?

“A hitman?” One of the Sub boys recognized her, “HitKID is more like it, what’s the matter Churro, your Uncle not taking this seriously?” The other piped.

Only those with extremely good contact networks knew of the situation Taco Bell was in at the moment, and Cinnamon had been instructed to keep it that way. Cinnamon’s cell buzzed and she flipped it open, -‘Stick your tongue out at the Sub-butas for me Churro!’- it read. Cinnamon obeyed immediately, which caused the Sub boys to prickle like puffed up popinjays.

“Just get on with the meeting.” She flipped her phone shut and began petting the Chihuahua nervously, her expression now flatly annoyed.

Brahm Cathy
McDonald's Conference room

Brahm sat fairly close to Miss Panda, but far enough so he felt...Safe, you know? At any rate, his casual posture in the chair conveyed his message clearly enough; "I couldn't care less about the lot of you." He glanced around the room every so often, almost as if looking for what he could do to entertain himself for a while. If nothing else, everyone in the room knew all about Brahm's, ah, special interests.

And even he, who was rather used to animals like Pizza the Hut, he still couldn't help but feel disgusted by his very presence, just the same as all the others. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his attention span obviously reaching it's limit as he closed his eyes and mumbled incoherently under his breath. Even the Dairy Queen's entrance didn't spark his interest...much. He shook his head and muttered, "Been there, done that." All while sounding somewhat amused.

And then came the clown.

Brahm wasn't sure what to think about that, I mean, he didn't like people jumping up from under tables any more than the next guy, and he did instinctively pull out his gun, but upon realizing just who it was, he lowered it and made sure that Marley wasn't about to do something stupid. No need for them to get kicked out or anything. He leaned over to Marley and said, "Hey, I want you to do your best to not make us look bad now that McDonald's here, m'kay?" He patted the guy on the shoulder and shook his head at all the flirting that was going on, he honestly wanted to make fun of the whole thing, and to be quite honest he did say, "Oh, yeah, please jus' stop it! She's no' that good in the sack." But his words probably didn't travel much further than the people sitting on either side of him.

Naturally, things went downhill once the clown asked a question, with so many rivaling gangs in place, what did he expect? Never-the-less, jokes were made at a teenaged girl, Brahm almost felt sorry for her, until some moron in a crown decided to say, "Oh, cut the kid a break. I'll bet she's smarter than Dwarf over here."

There was a good round of chuckles before Brahm held up his hands and said, "Ah, yeah, but at leas' I don' need a big crown to make me feel good about myself. What'cha compensatin' for?" Then he added, "An' cut the kid a break, 'er uncle must think she c'n 'andle it."

Then the Subway Boys couldn't help their snickers as one of them said, "I don't think she's eighteen yet, Dwarf. Better cool it down on that one."

Brahm raised an eyebrow, "Oh, you thought tha' was flirtin'?" He let air out of his nose in a soft snort before he said, "Ah, tha's rich, right there. I don' care who you are."

Cow Minion
McDonalds Conference Room

The cowboys of Chik-Fil-A had no need for an excessive show of force, the Chik-Mafia was quite confident in their capabilities as a business to act accordingly and with a low level of violence. Making a special show of such cooperation by not loading the room with minions…or something like that; bottom line was that Boss Brahm was confident enough to only bring Marley along, the best of the Cows. And that fact alone made Marley brim with pride; he stood behind his boss with his chest puffed out, legs apart and fists clenched, serious face and all. He had climbed the ranks quickly and was glad to be considered this important. His expression soon broke however as he glanced at one of Miss Queen’s Blizzard men, was that John?! He recognized him from the cow-preservation club meeting! ‘Hey John.’, he mouthed, a toothy smile and excited wave caught John’s attention, the sound of his dinging bell probably tipping him off. He waved back just as enthusiastically, the two spent a few minutes trying to mouth words at each other, but while John was a capable lips reader, Marley certainly was not. This left both John and Marley sadly confused. The sound of his Boss’ voice snapped him to however and he resumed his position, breaking his stance only to smile at John every once in a while.

Then the sudden presence of Ronald McDonald made him react in a flash, a few feather knives were thrown by force of habit, he stopped mid-moo, about to sound his bovine battle-cry, hands above head and one leg up in preparation to throw, before he hastily put his net away. Boss stopped him, and he responded immediately to the orders of his boss. “Right Boss don’t you worry, I got it covered.” He assured him, nodding excessively and resuming his post behind the man. He threw John a ‘what the hell?’ look as the Clown spoke, John shrugged. Miss Cheng reprimanded Pan-Pan, a long standing closet anti-cowdeath member. He gave a quick salute to his brother in the cause, not that he could see it, he had a feeling that the man just liked the way chicken tasted more than cow. Ah well, you took a friend wherever you can find one.

The Bosses started talking again, and B.K King spoke against Boss Brahm, that didn’t sit too well with Marley, he glared and fingered a few feathers in his holster. Burger King were a bunch of cow killing scum who didn’t deserve the time of day, along with McDonalds. Although they were putting out more chicken products as of late so…they were in the gray area. “Boss…” He murmured, but Boss had it under control, as usual, so he decided to relax, he glanced at the girl Boss spoke about, Taco Bell.

Oh sweat heavens…

The clouds parted and a haloing light only visible to him shined down on the being known as…what was her name? Oh lords what was her name?! He had to find out! His open mouthed stare continued unabashed at her as his mind imagined her smiling sweetly, literally blind to her aloof expression. He was in danger of drooling.

As Cheng made sure to sit behind her, so she could hear her voice, the Dairy Queen smirked. The little girl still sounded hurt from her romp with one of her employees. Her dark lashes fell deviously low over her eyes, she was sounding bolder by the second. Did she honestly believe that the ho she had hired to dress as her was actually THE Dairy Queen? The thought made her giggle. The laughter was muffled behind a slowly elongating smile as she rested her fingers against her painted lips. They then parted to flutter with laughter. No, the only man that was worth her time was The Man himself, Ronald. She had every intention to work her way into his wallet. They already had quite the love-hate relationship. One day, he would make her his wife, and then she'd become Mrs. McDonald. She would then catch him off guard and kill him off for good. Changing McDonalds to Dairy Queen, she would triumph over the other restaurants. She would then truly be a Queen!

The Dairy Queen had the reputation of being quite the whore, but only her henchmen, herself, and perhaps the keen eyes of the clown knew the truth. The beauty saw herself as an untouchable goddess. She wouldn’t make herself vulnerable before any man. Having quieted her laughter, she returned her chin to her hand, listening to what Ronald had to say contently.

Ronald’s eyes darted to the few bosses that had piped up. He crossed his arms behind his back and parted his lips to speak when the projector cut on by itself. The light shined into his eyes, making him squint. Behind him on the screen, a man appeared with a huge smiley face for a head. He was wearing a black suit with a red tie as he sat with his arms crossed upon an office desk.

“Greetings!” the smiley-faced man said cheerfully. “This is a hello from your friendly, neighborhood Walmart! Always bringing you smiles and low prices. My, my, it’s a full house tonight. There are so many familiar faces.”

Ronald turned around to gaze at the screen with wide eyes. How the hell did that happy, scum bag get into his network? It disturbed him to think that Walmart had the power to hack his systems. Glancing to Birdie, the clown muttered, “Go to the control center and tell the McNuggets to get me a feed on this jack ass.”

Birdie nodded and swiftly left through the wooden door.

Running a hand back through his red fro, Ronald composed himself. He lowered his hands into his red trouser pockets and stared coolly up at the big smiley face.

“So, what’s the smiley-faced jack ass doing here? Curious to see how we plan to overthrow your company?” Ronald questioned.

“Overthrow my company? Oh dear, why would you ever do that? My presence is an asset for most of you: Taco Bell’s taco shells, TGI Friday’s famous artichoke dip and more, and we used to sell Panda Express’s most-desired sauce until a recent misfortune had Panda Express stop providing for us…” His smiley face turned upside down. “It was a sad day.”

Ronald turned a deep scowl over his shoulder as he regarded Panda Express, Taco Bell, and a fleeing TGI Fridays. Apparently, Fridays hadn’t closed their ties with Walmart and didn’t plan to. Whirling around, the clown watched the gangster throw open the back door.

“What’s wrong Friday? You late for somethin’?” Ronald called after him.

“Fuck you McDonald. Walmart is going to buy out all your companies. All you are finished!” Friday hollered back.

Ronald turned to Grimace. “Make sure that chicken strip doesn’t leave this mansion!”

Grimace nodded and pulling back on the slide of his fry pistol disappeared out the back door.

“I’m sorry McDonald. I don’t mean to rain on your parade but that isn’t all. Pizza the Hut has volunteered to take out my competition…”

Ronald slowly turned to the fat bastard in the corner. His teeth were bared like a wild dog. The clown looked ready to breathe fire. Pizza the Hut stared obliviously at the clown and then the other bosses who were giving him shrewd stares. Frowning angrily at the big smiley face, Pizza the Hut felt a sweat drop threatening to descend the side of his brow.

“What are you talking about, you smiley-faced punk?” he growled.

“The calzone you probably devoured by now had a special ingredient added to it. A hot and deadly ghost pepper. You may be feeling the effects soon,” said Wally.

On cue, Pizza the Hut’s belly gurgled, splurged, and moaned loudly. The pizza man’s eyes widened as he rested his chubby fingers on his rumbling gut.

“Oh my god…” Dairy Queen gasped in horror.

Wally reached into his inner coat pocket and removed a remote. Ronald looked from Pizza the Hut to Wally and felt his heart stop when his thumb came over the red button.

“So long fools!” Wally exclaimed before he broke into laughter. “You’ll regret the day you ever messed with Walmart!”

“He’s rigged to explode!” Ronald shouted.

Wally pressed the red button and a muffled explosion shook Pizza the Hut’s gut. Every mafia boss was frozen in their seats, some having attempted to dive under the conference table. Slowly, their eyes drifted to the fat man as Pizza the Hut smirked.

“Takes more than a bomb to take out The Hut!” he roared with laughter as he pat his belly, but seconds after his laughter ceased. His belly continued its disturbing noises as he then began to swell like a balloon. His apron became tight until the straps began to tear and his grease-stained shirt rode up past his deep and puckered belly-button.

“Boss!” his pizza goons shrieked.

Ronald raced over to the wooden back door. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you wish to live, you’d use this door.” Without waiting any longer, the clown darted through it.