About 15 years ago I bought a 20-piece chicken nuggets on my way to my overnight shift. At like 4:00 a.m. I microwaved them and ate them all, and then at like 4:30 a.m. my guts started rumbling like a far off train, and then at like 4: 40 I barely made it out into the employee parking lot where I puked, a king-hell fountain of steaming, rancid vomit. 6 feet in diameter, this chunky, foaming rainbow of acidic, roiling barf, sizzling and shimmering in the moonlight. Little chunks of grease-meat like opals in a jeweled crown. It was, of course, noticed by the guy arriving for the next shift. He came in and I'm just lying on the floor, pale and weak. And that's the last time I ever ate at McDonald's.