I hate fast food, which is probably why I eat it at least once a week. I know that it is bad for me. I know that my heart hates it. I know that my liver hates it. When I eat it I feel guilty and I don’t enjoy it. I did, once upon a time, enjoy it.
I reveled in its grease and salt and sugary goodness when I was in high school. It was a race at lunch to make it from my school to McDonald’s. We’d make it to Rotten Ronnie’s and he’d be there, smiling that dastardly grin of his (secretly, he smiles at us when we eat his “food” because he’s psychotic and believes that, in his own way, he’s ridding the world of bad people who can’t help themselves). Sick bugger.
On the way home from the 2010 prom for the grads from my school (I’m a teacher) I spotted the alluring lights of DQ, McDonald’s, and Tim Horton’s. They all called to me with their sweet, syrupy voices and their late night illumination. I fought them off, but took photographic evidence of their trickery. A light at night helps guide you home, only they’re calling me to a high blood pressure, high cholesterol death and a home in the great beyond.
Click on the photo to see it in a better light.
Pentax K20D; Pentax DA 18-55mm AL II; f16; ISO 100; 13 second exposure; tripod mounted; remote fired.