Loving Mr. McDonald

Vlogger

Ronald and I walked out of Charlie's with a takeout order of ribs. I offered to drive separately in Kyle Chad but he told me that he would just take me in his own car. I wasn't exactly thrilled to be driving in what I assumed was a clown car but I decided against complaining.

"Wait a second," my jaw dropped to the floor when he opened the door of a *insert rich car brand here*, "this is yours?"

He just smiled proudly and I thanked him as he closed the passenger door behind me when I crawled in. I had no idea he'd have such a nice car! Plus, I guess he's sort of a gentleman? Maybe he had more to him than I thought.

He started up the engine and I quickly turned on the radio. The last thing I wanted was awkward silence. I clicked through a few stations until one of my favorite songs started playing.

"Heck yeah," I crank up the volume, "I love this song!"

I happily bobbed my head to the greatest jam in existence, Fight Song by Rachel Platten, and mumbled some of the lyrics. Suddenly I hear a deep voice beside me start singing! The clown could sing?! I immediately wanted to prove myself as worthy so I joined in.

And all the things I didn't say
Wrecking balls inside my brain
I will scream them loud tonight
Can you hear my voice this time?

I turn to Mr. McDonald with a grin, preparing to sing my heart out during the chorus. He must've been ready too because our voices rang out together in perfect harmony. It was beautiful.

The song ended right as we arrived to our destination. I wanted to compliment him on his impressive baritone but he got out of the car before I could say a thing. Maybe he was embarrassed? Maybe he was mad that I out-sang him? Maybe he thought I was trying to show off? Well maybe it doesn't matter!

I angrily jumped from the vehicle and walked behind McDonald, keeping my distance. If he didn't want to talk about our moment, that's fine! It's not like I care or anything.

"Mr. McDonald, I'm so glad you could make it!" A girl holding a video camera exclaims.

"Of course. Thank you for reaching out Jasmine. I would absolutely love to work out a brand deal with you."

"Actually, I was hoping we could talk about that," Jasmine rakes her long hair with her fingers, "a brand deal was never my intention."

"What?" McDonald asks, failing at hiding his surprise.

"I just wanted to make sure that you'd come! I was really hoping that you'd help me. I've been a lifestyle YouTuber for too long and am trying to get into daily vlogging."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, my views have gone down. Having Ronald McDonald in my video will get my audience back! Please, just be in it for a few minutes. I heard you were trying to get back in the limelight, this would benefit you too."

Mr. McDonald pondered her idea for a few moments. Jasmine awkwardly tugged on her shirt sleeves, a trendy floral top, and wouldn't make eye contact. I wonder why she just didn't state her intentions. Wait... am I doing that? No, I'm just flat out lying. So I'm not as bad.

"Jasmine, this is my..." McDonald looked at me and furred his red eyebrows, "actually I'm not sure what her position is called. She posts on and manages my Instagram account. She came along because she thought it would get me some positive attention to post a picture with you. I'll be in your video if you're in my photo."

Jasmine's face lit up with joy. "Absolutely I will!"

We decided on taking the picture near a faded brick wall with vines clinging across it. Jasmine said the grungy look was "aesthetic" so we went with it. After snapping a few shots and recording the part of the vlog that the clown was included in, the sun was setting.

McDonald and I started heading back to the car when I felt Jasmine tug on my arm. "What picture are you going to use?"

I scrolled through my phone and landed on one that spoke to me. Mr. McDonald was laughing at some stupid joke I'd said and Jasmine had a playful smile on. It felt natural. Not as fake as the polished mascot that was usually shown.

"That's a good one! Ronald looks pretty handsome in it, doesn't he?" She asks.

"Yeah," I respond without thinking, "he does."