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March 28, 2024
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Humorous

Enter the McDonald’s McPlant: The Tragedy of Macmuffin

McDonald’s will test a meat-free burger in several markets . . . which it has dubbed “McPlant.”

CNBC.

SCENE 1. The S’moors.

SHAKES: Bubble, bubble, rat hair and stubble

Cellulose churn, diglycerides bubble.

    (Enter Macmuffin.)

1 SHAKE: All hail Macmuffin! We bring good tidings to thee

Who is morning taste treat now, Mayor of Arches soon.

MAC: Thy speakest vanilla falsehood, though ’tis true:

I am now morning taste treat; but Mayor of Arches?

I knowest not of what you speak.

2 SHAKE: By my froth, do not doubt:

In menu marquee

Macmuffin shall appear above all:

Above McNuggets, ’bove McCheese.

MAC: Above McCheese? But this cannot be! The Mayor lives.

Are you sure ’tis I who shall reign?

3 SHAKE: Fear not, Macmuffin. No burger born of beef

Shall e’er have power upon thee.

    (Exeunt.)

Mac: This strange news hath poached double my yolk.

Could it be true the news from paper cups parted?

Just as milkshakes boast o’ no dairy

And factory farm is a phrase contrary

A muffin testing destiny must be wary.
 

SCENE 2: Macmuffin’s Castle.

    (Enter Lady Filet-O-Fish and Mac.)

MAC: Lady Filet!

How fares my tender fish sandwich?

LADY: Golden brown, my lord, with the news of late:

The forecast of those triple thick hath reached my ears. And hast thou heard? With Mayor McCheese have we for lunch together been order’d.

MAC: ’Tis true then the prophecy!

But dar’st I yank

The sweating patty from its limp bun?

LADY: Hear me now: for with my plan

Greasy arches we shall quickly span.

When McCheese comes, greet him with the smile of Ronald,

But with the heart of Hamburglar.

Mayor Macmuffin you shall be

And no burger born of beef

Shall have the power to stop thee.

This sauce offer, laced it is with drug.

Strike first and never worry

Your heart as cold as a McFlurry.

    (Exit. Enter McCheese, Lords, Fries.)

MAYOR: Hail noble Macmuffin of Egg

Fulfiller of that most important meal.

MAC: Hail Mayor McCheese!

Yet I see thy patty hath grown dry.

A special sauce will surely greasen thy extremities, making thee juicy anew.

MAYOR: Spread on, then, McMuffin!

My beefy Cheddar awaits.

MAC (aside): Special it is, in both intent and effect.

MAYOR: Yet I feel a sudden fatigue. Go forth, and I will join thee of late.

To my chamber I’ll retire for twenty winks to take. (Exeunt.)

MAC: More than twenty winks into this night he’ll fit—

A sleep of no waking: I’m lovin’ it.
 

SCENE 3: The Mayor’s Chamber.

    (Macmuffin and Lady Filet chew.)

MAC: Methought I heard a voice cry,

“Seep no more! Macmuffin doth murder grease”—the innocent grease,

The ring that dots every placemat to show a burger once was there.

LADY: The drippings from this meat hath stained my white bun

And no cleanser, nay Biz nor Fab, shall draw it out.

Out, damned sauce! Out, I say! (Dies.)

MAC: She hath perished, simmered in her own juices.

Tomato and tomato and tomato

Creeps in this petty place from bun to bun

To the last comestible of recorded time.

    (Enter Guard.)

GUARD: My lord, a large order of burgers has been assembl’d

And are now led against us!

MAC: What burgers are these? Were they not born of beef? The shakes that know all mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:

“Fear not, Macmuffin. No burger born of beef

Shall e’er have power upon thee.”

GUARD: Um . . .

    (Alarum within. Enter McPlant.)

McPLANT: Rise up, muffin, and fight!

MAC: May I have your order?

McPLANT: Vengeance, false mayor!

MAC: We shall soon see what you are made of! (They fight.)

McPLANT: Pea-protein isolate, pressed canola oil, bamboo cellulose . . .

MAC: Yet where lies the beef?

McPLANT: Only that which comes from beyond.

MAC: ’Tis impossible!

McPLANT: No. He serves another king.

MAC (dying): The future is yours with that sure poke:

My bacon is pierced straight through to my yolk.

McPLANT: Then run yellow from this life, sickly sandwich.

MAC: I die uneaten an unethical egg;

Let all who hear my fate a more sustainable snack beg. (Dies.)

McPLANT: Distasteful story, done at last:

Ne’er from life has food moved so fast. ♦

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/03/15/macmuffin-a-tragedy

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