McDonalds, You've Done It Again!

Why is it that whenever I eat at McDonald's, no matter how good the food is (and it never is,) I always feel guilty and ashamed afterwards? It's like I've let someone down, someone who was counting on me not eating the pseudo-meat and preservative-rich slop-on-a-bun. Every time I eat there, I prove myself unworthy of that trust.

What's worse is the smell in the car afterward, like a miasma of shame lingering long after the foul deed is done. I've often come back to the car the next day with the odor hanging on, pointing a green smoky finger at me in accusation. It knows what I've done, oh yes, it knows. I'll not go into the aftertaste and the rank belches that inevitably follow such an indulgence. Can it even be called an indulgence?

And so, in my finest faux-Shakespearean accent:
E-vill, thou hast a name, and it is McDonald's. Get thee behind me, empty temptation! Return to the Stygian depths of the rainbow trousers that spawned thee! Take thine vile flavor and pallid complexion back to damnable arches from whence thou came and return no more to vex me! ::BUUURRRP!:: Ugh, that's nasty.