Fic: McDonaldland| multiple pairings| magical realism
It's been a long time! Here have some unfinished crack!fic!
Title: McDonaldland
Author: Ficsoreal
Summary: The fast food chains are crime syndicates and Ronald McDonald runs the town with an iron fist.
Yellow, red and white compete for ocular dominance in the downstairs den; the three colors repeat endlessly on the walls, furnishings, throw pillows and carpet. Entirely too bright, displaying a decided lack of moderation and good taste, but Ronald has been living with them so long, he barely notices the garishness. He throws his stress ball into the air and watches as it fails to reach the white popcorn ceiling. Bass thumps out of the surround sound and fry guys, strange creatures who resemble nothing so much as vividly colored pom poms with huge eyes and stick legs, chase each other around the furniture. He throws the ball up again and it kisses the ceiling, a smattering of dust drifts downwards, dancing slowly through rays of artificial light.
"Ronny!" Footsteps and the distinctive sound of someone dragging a bag along the floor echo down the hall. Ronald tosses the ball again and casually sticks out his 29 triple E size foot just in time to send a purple fry guy crashing to the floor. The green fry chasing him nearly shakes apart giggling. "Ronny!" The voice calls again, impatient and familiar.
Hamburglar's hat is always the first thing Ronald notices about the man. Then the black mask across his beady eyes and the oddly wide mouth. Hamburglar leaves his bag bulging with who knows what, but most likely ill-gotten burgers next to the door and makes his way to the red couch Ronald's lounging on.
He plops down in the large arm chair across from Ronald, feet not quit touching the ground. "The new rankings are out." He pushes the brim of his hat back and sweaty red hair falls across his forehead. "Have you seen them?"
"No," Ronald says, squishing his ball in one hand. "Are we still first?"
"You know we are," Hamburglar replies, "but the gap is narrowing."
Ronald stops fidgeting with his stress ball and focuses on Hamburglar. "What do you suggest?"
Hamburglar leans forward. "We got to take those fuckers down like we did that meddling Burger King." He nods to the gold crown sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. Ronald still isn't sure what happened to the King, but he hasn't popped up lately offering anyone a knock off version of the McGriddle.
"What's the plan?" Ronald asks. He tugs irritably at the collar of his yellow jumpsuit. The material's hot and rough against his neck even with the central air going full blast. Ronald's always ran a bit hot. Fuck it, he thinks and stands up to strip off. Underneath the jumpsuit is a white t-shirt and red boxer briefs. He doesn't bother taking off his peppermint stripped knee socks.
"Nice." Hamburglar whistles. "I see you're still maintaining your girlish figure." He snaps his finger. "Which brings me neatly to my next point. Wendy."
Ronald scratches his thigh and repeats, "Wendy?" The fry guys have congregated in a far corner of the room, slumped together like piles of yarn.
"I know you don't follow the competition as closely as you should, Boss, but I'm not so far gone as to believe you don't know who Wendy is." Hamburglar's mouth is turned down at one edge.
Red headed girl with pale skin and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Growing up into a fine young lady. "What about Wendy?"
"She's the key, Ronny. Our opportunity to get inside of Dave Thomas's head."
"I need to get inside your head," Ronald slants Hamburglar a look. "Do you know how hard it is to get within twenty feet of that girl? Dave keeps his security tight."
Hamburglar points a finger. "There's a Make A Wish Ball next week. Dave and family will be there and we will too."
“And then what?” Ronald asks, because they got lucky with The King. The public was just as tired of him as they were, but if an apparently innocent, young girl went missing, people would start asking questions.
“Just be friendly. They’re planning something big and we’re going to figure out what it is.” Hamburglar smiles. “I know you can do friendly.”
Ronald smiles back.
**
Make A Wish Balls all look alike, blue and white with glittery accessories. Ronald tugs at his yellow suit jacket and looks around the room. Mickey and Minnie are already circulating and Ronald spares a glance at Minnie’s legs; the old girl still has it. Ronald has always been a fan of Disney World, the Princesses in particular. He thinks back on his time in Ariel’s grotto with the utmost fondness.
“Ronald! Nice to see you, old man.”
A hard slap on the back accompanies the words and Ronald turns around to face a giant bunny with a bowtie around his neck and a huge carrot dangling from his hand. “Bugs,” he says, “How’s Elmer?”
“Good, good.” Bugs Bunny looks around. “He’s around here somewhere. Just look for the glare off that dome. You here alone?”
Ronald shrugs. “You know how it is.”
Bugs looks about as sympathetic a nearly six feet tall rabbit can look. “Hang in there; it’ll work out. If push comes to shove, Henny Penny is still on the market.” He gives Ronald another pat on the shoulder and wanders off, no doubt, to find Elmer. Ronald had forgotten how insufferable Bugs could be at times.
Ronald actually finds Dave Thomas before he spots Wendy. Dave is standing beside one of the many punch tables, holding a glass and a conversation with a tidy, blond lady in a sequined sheath dress. Wendy is standing slightly behind him, ponytails curled into ringlets looking like every teenager forced to go to a fundraising event, petulant and bored. Ronald smiles. Easy.
Subtle is hard to do when you’re dressed in a canary yellow suit with a bright red tie, so Ronald doesn’t even try. When Wendy looks in his direction, he catches her eyes and raises an eyebrow. Her eyes widen and she glances first to Dave, but he’s still talking to the blond. Ronald tips his head back, beckoning, and he can see the indecision all over her face. She wants to see what he wants.
“What?” she says, abrupt, scared, after she’s fought her way through the crowd and to the corner Ronald has staked out.
“I don’t believe we’ve ever met properly,” Ronald says and sticks out his hand. “Ronald McDonald.”
Wendy scoffs at him. “I know who you are.” Ronald keeps his hand out and she shakes it reluctantly, manners drilled deep by her Uncle, no doubt. “Real name Thomas,” she says and Ronald smiles.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
Title: McDonaldland
Author: Ficsoreal
Summary: The fast food chains are crime syndicates and Ronald McDonald runs the town with an iron fist.
Yellow, red and white compete for ocular dominance in the downstairs den; the three colors repeat endlessly on the walls, furnishings, throw pillows and carpet. Entirely too bright, displaying a decided lack of moderation and good taste, but Ronald has been living with them so long, he barely notices the garishness. He throws his stress ball into the air and watches as it fails to reach the white popcorn ceiling. Bass thumps out of the surround sound and fry guys, strange creatures who resemble nothing so much as vividly colored pom poms with huge eyes and stick legs, chase each other around the furniture. He throws the ball up again and it kisses the ceiling, a smattering of dust drifts downwards, dancing slowly through rays of artificial light.
"Ronny!" Footsteps and the distinctive sound of someone dragging a bag along the floor echo down the hall. Ronald tosses the ball again and casually sticks out his 29 triple E size foot just in time to send a purple fry guy crashing to the floor. The green fry chasing him nearly shakes apart giggling. "Ronny!" The voice calls again, impatient and familiar.
Hamburglar's hat is always the first thing Ronald notices about the man. Then the black mask across his beady eyes and the oddly wide mouth. Hamburglar leaves his bag bulging with who knows what, but most likely ill-gotten burgers next to the door and makes his way to the red couch Ronald's lounging on.
He plops down in the large arm chair across from Ronald, feet not quit touching the ground. "The new rankings are out." He pushes the brim of his hat back and sweaty red hair falls across his forehead. "Have you seen them?"
"No," Ronald says, squishing his ball in one hand. "Are we still first?"
"You know we are," Hamburglar replies, "but the gap is narrowing."
Ronald stops fidgeting with his stress ball and focuses on Hamburglar. "What do you suggest?"
Hamburglar leans forward. "We got to take those fuckers down like we did that meddling Burger King." He nods to the gold crown sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. Ronald still isn't sure what happened to the King, but he hasn't popped up lately offering anyone a knock off version of the McGriddle.
"What's the plan?" Ronald asks. He tugs irritably at the collar of his yellow jumpsuit. The material's hot and rough against his neck even with the central air going full blast. Ronald's always ran a bit hot. Fuck it, he thinks and stands up to strip off. Underneath the jumpsuit is a white t-shirt and red boxer briefs. He doesn't bother taking off his peppermint stripped knee socks.
"Nice." Hamburglar whistles. "I see you're still maintaining your girlish figure." He snaps his finger. "Which brings me neatly to my next point. Wendy."
Ronald scratches his thigh and repeats, "Wendy?" The fry guys have congregated in a far corner of the room, slumped together like piles of yarn.
"I know you don't follow the competition as closely as you should, Boss, but I'm not so far gone as to believe you don't know who Wendy is." Hamburglar's mouth is turned down at one edge.
Red headed girl with pale skin and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Growing up into a fine young lady. "What about Wendy?"
"She's the key, Ronny. Our opportunity to get inside of Dave Thomas's head."
"I need to get inside your head," Ronald slants Hamburglar a look. "Do you know how hard it is to get within twenty feet of that girl? Dave keeps his security tight."
Hamburglar points a finger. "There's a Make A Wish Ball next week. Dave and family will be there and we will too."
“And then what?” Ronald asks, because they got lucky with The King. The public was just as tired of him as they were, but if an apparently innocent, young girl went missing, people would start asking questions.
“Just be friendly. They’re planning something big and we’re going to figure out what it is.” Hamburglar smiles. “I know you can do friendly.”
Ronald smiles back.
**
Make A Wish Balls all look alike, blue and white with glittery accessories. Ronald tugs at his yellow suit jacket and looks around the room. Mickey and Minnie are already circulating and Ronald spares a glance at Minnie’s legs; the old girl still has it. Ronald has always been a fan of Disney World, the Princesses in particular. He thinks back on his time in Ariel’s grotto with the utmost fondness.
“Ronald! Nice to see you, old man.”
A hard slap on the back accompanies the words and Ronald turns around to face a giant bunny with a bowtie around his neck and a huge carrot dangling from his hand. “Bugs,” he says, “How’s Elmer?”
“Good, good.” Bugs Bunny looks around. “He’s around here somewhere. Just look for the glare off that dome. You here alone?”
Ronald shrugs. “You know how it is.”
Bugs looks about as sympathetic a nearly six feet tall rabbit can look. “Hang in there; it’ll work out. If push comes to shove, Henny Penny is still on the market.” He gives Ronald another pat on the shoulder and wanders off, no doubt, to find Elmer. Ronald had forgotten how insufferable Bugs could be at times.
Ronald actually finds Dave Thomas before he spots Wendy. Dave is standing beside one of the many punch tables, holding a glass and a conversation with a tidy, blond lady in a sequined sheath dress. Wendy is standing slightly behind him, ponytails curled into ringlets looking like every teenager forced to go to a fundraising event, petulant and bored. Ronald smiles. Easy.
Subtle is hard to do when you’re dressed in a canary yellow suit with a bright red tie, so Ronald doesn’t even try. When Wendy looks in his direction, he catches her eyes and raises an eyebrow. Her eyes widen and she glances first to Dave, but he’s still talking to the blond. Ronald tips his head back, beckoning, and he can see the indecision all over her face. She wants to see what he wants.
“What?” she says, abrupt, scared, after she’s fought her way through the crowd and to the corner Ronald has staked out.
“I don’t believe we’ve ever met properly,” Ronald says and sticks out his hand. “Ronald McDonald.”
Wendy scoffs at him. “I know who you are.” Ronald keeps his hand out and she shakes it reluctantly, manners drilled deep by her Uncle, no doubt. “Real name Thomas,” she says and Ronald smiles.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.