Ode to a chicken sammich.

Dear McDonalds.

Dear, Sweet McDonalds.

You and I are no strangers to one another. Not by a longshot. Why, I even worked for you for a bit. Fattiest 3 years of my life. I remember what a treat you were, when I was a child, and it was a major deal to be taken to see you. What excitement a small child feels when greeted by that evil, sorry, cute little clown face of Ronald! I remember when I worked there, how great it was, to cook my own lunch; O! What sweet freshness!

But then! You changed things. In your zest for speed, and catering to the mass humanity of ass-hats that can't wait for anything, you streamlined your cooking. What once was juicy, burger happiness, had become gray, tasteless mystery meat, and hunks of questionable chicken parts. Why? You gave me hope with your McRib - even though only God knows what it is made of, the taste was superb. But,again, you let me down in that my favorite sandwich became a "special" item, meaning it's more rare to see than Haley's comet.

So, I have become disheartened by you McDonalds. Until recently.

I see a commercial for a new sandwich. The "Southern Style Chicken" sandwich. Oh, what holy hell is this, I think pessimistically. A sad rip-off of Chik Fil-A? I'll never give it a shot, I think. Why be let down again? But, as I'm going through your drivethru today, bored as always with the choices that lay before me, trying to recoup after a complete shit-hole of a day at work, I bite the bullet, and order it.
I receive my order. What ho? A box, not a molten sticky wrapper that lets my meal be smashed to an unrecognizable lump! I am intrigued! Then, I open the box, and what do my eyes see? A piece of chicken, extending over the bun!!!! Stay with me here - the bun was actually smaller than the meat itself! Could this actually have happened at McDonalds?!
I take a bite, and have to close my eyes. My pulse begins to race, as the juicy, buttery softness of the fried chicken fills my palette. I brace myself for the grease that is sure to be present, only something with this much taste has to be full of grease, but it is not there! Juicy, chickeny goodness fills my mouth, and it is fresh, and it is wonderful. This is comfort personified. Oh sweet Heaven. I take another bite, and another, until there is nothing left, and I am spent. Oh so wonderful. And for once, after a McDonalds meal, I am not left shaken and spent and wishing I had taken a different path. All is right with the world. For now.

Please McDonalds, please keep this "Southern Style Chicken" on your normal line-up. I fear for my psychological make-up if you take it away from me. Or, at the very least, if you must replace it, make it something chocolatey. Thanks.