Warning: F-bomb alert. Should you find that offensive, please stop reading now. I assure you, however, it would be impossible for me to tell this little tale of misspent youth without it. Really.
We called him Mooch for the obvious reason. He was, in truth, a good kid, just constantly broke and always willing to have you supply a remedy. An example: One day as we were tramping along somewhere, I bemoaned my own lack of funds. Turning to another friend, Mooch said
Gimme five bucks.
The fiver was grudgingly produced and handed over. Before I could even roll my eyes he handed it to me.
Here. You can pay me back anytime.
Moose was not particularly moose-like. His surname was Muszynski, which was evidently two syllables too many. But enough introductions.
The Oldsmobile flew past me, stopped short, and backed up far too fast. Moose rolled down his window.
Hey man, want a ride?OK.We're going to McD's first.Whatever.
Mooch was shotgun. I hopped in the back and we pealed out, squealing into the McDonald's parking lot much too soon after. Mooch piped up.
Get me a fuckin' Egg McMuffin, willya?
Moose was indignant.
Bullshit! Don't you ever have any cash?Aw, c'mon man. Just get me a fuckin' Egg McMuffin.
Moose thought for a second, then his eyes lit up.
All right. I'll tell ya what. You go in there and order a fuckin' Egg fuckin' Mc fuckin' Muffin fuckin'. You don't say anything else, got me? You walk up and order a fuckin' Egg fuckin' Mc fuckin' Muffin fuckin', just like that, and I'll pay for it.Done!
If it was going to cost him anyway, at least Moose was going to be entertained. After a quick rehearsal take, we walked in.
Can I help you?Yeah. Gimme a fuckin' Egg fuckin' Mc fuckin' Muffin fuckin'.
The cashier barely looked up.
Ya want some fuckin' orange juice with that?
Right before Moose and I completely lost it, we heard Mooch
Aw, what the fuck.
If this story has a moral, I don't see it. And that is just as well.