Journey to McDonald’s

Section 1: Reverse Gear

After finishing their stroll through the AI exhibition, Kyle stretched and rubbed his stomach.

“I’m kinda hungry. Can’t believe it’s almost noon already. Wanna hit McDonald’s?”

Dinello lit up. “Oh yeah, baby. Let’s go.”

The two headed toward the food court, but after only a few steps, they noticed someone approaching—slowly and strangely.

It was a short, scrawny guy with a face full of pimples, wearing a neatly buttoned Zhongshan suit with his hair parted straight down the middle. But none of that was what made Kyle stop.

The guy was walking backward.

His head had somehow been twisted a full 180 degrees around his neck, leaving his face staring directly at them while the rest of his body faced the opposite direction. He looked like a broken human doll forced to navigate the mall in reverse.

Kyle slowed down and stared. “That’s… not right,” he muttered. “That’s not human.”

Dinello squinted at him, then his eyes widened with recognition. “Wait a sec… no way. That’s Pimple Face.”

It was Dinello’s classmate.

Dinello stepped toward him, visibly amused. “Hey, loser. What the hell happened to your face?” He tilted his head. “You look all damn.”

Pimple Face’s lips quivered. “I-I was just studying at a bubble tea shop the other day… minding my own business. Then this crazy pervert walked in wearing triangle-shaped pink women’s underwear. Just that. Nothing else.”

Dinello’s expression slowly changed.

“Out of nowhere, he grabbed my head and twisted it. Just—cranked the whole thing around.” Pimple Face awkwardly pointed behind himself. “I was lucky. If I weren’t so flexible, my neck would’ve snapped.”

Dinello stared at him. “Triangle-shaped… pink… women’s underwear…”

A short silence.

“Oh, damn.”

He knew exactly who Pimple Face was talking about.

Dave.

There was only one person in Flushing City stupid enough to walk around in triangle-shaped pink women’s underwear and randomly twist another man’s head backward.

Dinello casually pulled out his phone and took several pictures, even stepping slightly to the side to perfectly frame Pimple Face’s backward head and forward-facing body.

Perfect Instagram story.

No caption needed.

Only then did he slip the phone back into his pocket. “So… did you go to a hospital? Try to get it fixed?”

“Yeah.” Pimple Face sniffled. “But the doctor said twisting it back could snap my spine. One wrong move and I’m paralyzed. Or dead.”

“Oh.”

That was apparently all the sympathy Dinello had available. He turned toward Kyle and nodded toward the food court.

“Come on. I’m hungry.”

Kyle looked at Pimple Face one more time, then followed. Behind them, Pimple Face continued walking backward through the mall, slowly disappearing into the crowd.

Dinello and Kyle forward.

Pimple Face in reverse.

Different directions.

Different lives.

Section 2: Underwear No More

Dinello and Kyle continued through the mall.

“Can’t believe Dave’s still out here picking on our classmates,” Dinello muttered.

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he slowed to a stop. “Speak of the devil…” He stared ahead. “There’s the devil.”

Walking toward them was a familiar muscle-bound figure.

Dave.

But something was wrong.

The arrogant fire was gone. Dave walked slowly with his head lowered, broad shoulders slumped and eyes fixed emptily on the floor.

“Hey! Geek!” Dinello called out. “How’s it going?”

Dave barely glanced up before continuing as though he hadn’t heard him. Dinello raised an eyebrow and stepped directly into his path. He had to look up slightly—Dave was taller and far more muscular—but Dave showed no hostility at all.

Then Dinello noticed something even stranger.

The infamous triangle-shaped pink women’s underwear was gone.

In fact, Dave wasn’t wearing anything.

He was completely naked, except for a conveniently placed censor blur over his waist and thighs, kindly provided by the narrator.

Dinello stared at him. “Hey, the infamous Underwear. What the fuck happened to you? You look like a damn whipped dog. No fight left in you.”

Dave slowly raised his eyes. “What a joke,” he replied flatly. “Calling me Underwear? I don’t even have my underwear on.”

He stepped around Dinello and continued walking. Normally, Dinello would have thrown another insult after him just to get a reaction. But looking at Dave now, he suddenly didn’t feel like it.

There was nothing fun about picking on someone who wouldn’t fight back.

Dave hadn’t made it more than fifty steps before three petty gangsters blocked his way.

“Hey! Hand over your cash!”

One of the others looked Dave up and down. “He’s not even wearing clothes. Where the hell would he be hiding money?”

The three stared at him for a moment.

“Wasting my damn time,” the third muttered before slapping Dave across the face.

Dave did nothing.

Seeing no resistance, the gangsters grew bolder, punching and kicking him from every direction. Dave never raised his hands. His steel-hard muscles absorbed the blows with barely any reaction.

Dinello watched from a distance. The old Dave would have destroyed all three of them before they even knew what happened.

This Dave simply stood there.

Dinello shook his head.

Kyle glanced at the naked man. “Do you know that pervert? Who’s that freak?”

“Oh, nobody important,” Dinello said with a shrug. “Let’s just get to McDonald’s.”

Kyle looked back at Dave one more time, then followed. Behind them, the gangsters were getting bored. Their attacks clearly weren’t doing much, and Dave still refused to react.

One of them stared down at his naked body, and a stupid grin spread across his face.

“Hey, check this out.”

He stepped closer, raised two fingers, and flicked Dave’s exposed penis.

It swung through the air like a sausage on a string, bobbing lazily from side to side before finally coming to a stop.

The gangsters burst out laughing and walked away.

Dave remained exactly where they had left him.

Naked.

Humiliated.

Silent.

And completely still.

Section 3: When Old Foes Cross Paths

Dinello and Kyle continued along the Pasdarian Walkway toward McDonald’s.

Before long, three familiar figures appeared ahead.

Brian walked in front, calm as usual. Beside him was Michael, his golden-rimmed glasses resting neatly on his face. A nervous-looking man Dinello didn’t recognize followed behind them.

It was Unlicensed Dr. Mildy.

Dinello grinned. “Hey! What’s up, losers?”

Brian and Michael casually glanced at him, smirked and kept walking.

Dinello’s smile disappeared. “What the fuck? Did they just ignore me?” He frowned. “I really hate that.”

Without warning, he reached down, grabbed a smartphone, and hurled it straight at them.

The phone tore through the air like a missile.

Brian’s Golden Eyes flashed. He shifted his head aside, letting the phone shoot past his cheek.

Michael calmly stepped aside as well.

Directly behind him stood Mildy.

“AHHH!”

Michael’s fist moved.

CRACK!

The phone exploded in midair, spraying plastic, glass, and tiny electronic pieces across the walkway.

Mildy stumbled backward. “What the fuck?! I almost died!”

Michael lowered his fist and adjusted his golden-rimmed glasses.

Kyle stared at the shattered phone. “Did you just throw your phone at them?”

“Yeah.”

“Why the hell would you do that? How are you supposed to call anyone now? What about all your contacts?”

Dinello gave him a strange look.

“Nah. That wasn’t my phone.”

Kyle paused. “Then whose—”

Dinello pointed at Kyle’s pocket.

“It was yours.”

Kyle froze and immediately checked.

Empty.

His face turned red. “You motherfucker—”

One of the pimples on his cheek suddenly burst.

POP!

A tiny drop of pus splattered across his cheek.

Dinello ignored him and turned back toward Brian.

“Hey, Brian! You got lucky today. If I wasn’t on my way to lunch, I’d beat your ass right here.”

Brian looked over his shoulder with a faint smile.

Dinello pointed at Michael. “And you too, Captain Lam.”

Michael pushed his golden-rimmed glasses slightly higher.

Neither man answered. Brian and Michael simply continued down the walkway, with Mildy hurrying after them.

Kyle stared at the remains of his phone.

“You owe me a new phone.”

Dinello completely ignored him and waved for him to follow.

“Hey, come on. I’m hungry. We’re late for lunch.”

Kyle clenched his fists and followed as the two groups continued in opposite directions, leaving the grudge unfinished for another day.

Section 4: They Are Not What They Look

After what felt like an unnecessarily long journey through the mall, Dinello and Kyle finally saw it ahead—McDonald’s, the golden gates of salvation.

“There it is,” Kyle said.

Dinello’s eyes lit up. “Finally.”

Just as they approached the entrance, someone stepped out of the restaurant.

He wore a neatly buttoned Zhongshan suit, his hair parted straight down the middle, with a noticeable pot belly beneath his jacket.

It was Marvel.

Dinello had never met him personally. All he saw was what looked like another normal student from his school—except Marvel didn’t actually go there at all.

Then something moved near the trash bins.

Dinello glanced over and spotted an ancient-looking man in a faded 1950s railroad worker’s uniform crouching beside a beautiful young woman in her early twenties.

At first, Dinello assumed it was an old man hiding behind a trash bin with his granddaughter. Then he noticed both of them cautiously peeking around the side at Marvel.

They were hiding from him.

Dinello frowned and stepped directly into Marvel’s path.

“Hey, you. What the hell are you doing bullying a helpless old man and his granddaughter?”

Marvel blinked. “Are you… talking to me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

Marvel looked genuinely confused.

“I never bully anyone. I’m a good boy.”

Dinello stared at him.

Marvel stared back.

Then Marvel simply walked around him and continued on his way.

“Weird guy,” Dinello muttered.

Once Marvel was gone, Lawson and the young woman emerged from behind the trash bin.

“Thank God,” Lawson said. “If that Beast saw me standing around with a girl, he’d go completely animal.”

“Don’t worry, old man. That bully’s gone.”

Lawson’s expression changed immediately.

Dinello looked at the young woman beside him and gave Lawson an approving nod.

“Damn, though. Gotta give you credit, old geezer. Getting yourself a young, pretty girlfriend at your age? Respect.”

“Old geezer?!” Lawson pointed at himself. “I’m only eighteen!”

Dinello froze.

He looked at Lawson’s ancient face and faded railroad uniform.

Then he slowly turned toward Kyle.

Kyle stood beside him with his scruffy beard, acne scars, and prematurely aged face despite not even being thirty.

Dinello looked at Kyle, then Lawson, then Kyle again.

“…Makes sense.”

Kyle frowned. “What the fuck are you looking at me for?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Dinello immediately walked over to the young woman, dropped to one knee and gently took one of her hands.

“Hey, pretty. Instead of having this old kid as your boyfriend, how about letting me be your boyfriend instead?”

The woman firmly pulled her hand away.

“Oh, sorry. I’m into mature older men. Not pretty young boys like you.”

Dinello blinked.

Behind him, Kyle brightened.

Oh, yeah.

He’s a loser just like me.

Dinello stood up as though nothing had happened and headed toward McDonald’s.

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

Kyle happily followed.

Behind them, Lawson shouted, “Hey! I’m really eighteen!”

Without looking back, Dinello casually waved.

“Yeah, yeah. I believe you.”

Then he and Kyle continued into McDonald’s.

Section 5: Prank Gone Wrong

Dinello and Kyle finally stepped inside McDonald’s, only to find a massive line stretching halfway across the restaurant.

Dinello stared at it. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Kyle sighed. “I need to take a piss anyway. I’ll be right back.”

He headed into the restroom and found nearly every urinal covered with an OUT OF ORDER sign. Only one worked, with several customers already waiting.

Kyle reluctantly joined the line.

Back outside, Dinello stood alone in the McDonald’s queue.

A few minutes later, someone joined directly behind him.

It was Sean.

The Local Hero wore his usual white button-down shirt, partly open at the chest, revealing his slim, toned build. His red cape hung behind his shoulders, a silver earring glinted beneath his hair, and his long fringe fell across one eye.

Dinello glanced back but said nothing.

Before long, Kyle returned and headed toward his old spot.

“There you are.”

Then, for absolutely no reason, a stupid idea for a prank entered Dinello’s head.

He frowned. “Excuse me. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Kyle stopped. “What?”

“You can’t just cut in line.”

Kyle stared at him. “What the fuck are you talking about? I was standing here with you.”

“With me? I don’t even know you.”

“Dinello, what the fuck?”

“Who the hell is Dinello?”

Kyle stared at him in disbelief.

Dinello was starting to enjoy himself.

“Get to the back of the line.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Kyle tried to step past him.

Dinello grabbed him by the collar and gave what he intended to be a small yank backward.

Unfortunately, Dinello momentarily forgot how strong he was—and severely overestimated how much force Kyle’s body could handle.

Kyle left the ground.

“WHOA—!”

He flew five or six meters across the restaurant, slammed back-first into a wall, bounced off it, and crashed headfirst into a nearby trash bin. His legs stuck straight up for a second before slowly tipping over.

Kyle stopped moving.

The entire McDonald’s went silent. Customers stared. A worker behind the counter froze with a paper bag still in her hands.

Dinello stared at the overturned trash bin.

“…Oops.”

Sean had seen everything.

He stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Dinello’s shoulder.

“That was completely uncalled for. I don’t care what he did—you don’t treat an old man like that.”

Dinello blinked. “Old man?”

Sean looked toward Kyle, still unconscious with half his body stuck inside the overturned trash bin.

“He’s a senior citizen. Have some respect.”

Dinello stared at Sean, then Kyle, then Sean again. A vein twitched faintly on his forehead.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Sean said.

Dinello slowly looked down at the hand resting on his shoulder.

Then he slapped it away.

The two men stared at each other as McDonald’s fell quiet around them.

Lunch could wait.

Section 6: Offscreen KO Again

Dinello and Sean stood face to face in the middle of McDonald’s.

The customers around them had backed away, leaving an open space between the two men. Even the employees behind the counter had stopped working to watch.

Sean narrowed his eyes.

Then he moved.

His right fist shot toward Dinello’s face. Dinello raised one arm and blocked it.

THUD!

The impact echoed through the restaurant.

Nearby, a middle-aged mother stood with her three-year-old daughter, both watching from a safe distance. The little girl tugged on her sleeve.

“Mama, which uncle is going to win?”

Her mother studied the two fighters seriously.

“I don’t know. They both look pretty badass.”

The little girl nodded as if this were a perfectly reasonable answer.

Then her eyes wandered toward the window.

She froze.

“Mama!”

“What?”

The girl pointed outside.

“Look! That uncle outside is pooping!”

Every head in McDonald’s turned toward the window.

Outside, behind the same trash bin Lawson and the young woman had hidden behind earlier, was Tom.

Tall, scruffy, and filthy as usual, he had at least tried to find some privacy. He was squatting behind the bin with his pants around his ankles, unaware that a three-year-old girl inside McDonald’s had discovered his hiding place.

“You gotta go…” Tom muttered, straining slightly. “When you gotta go…”

The mother’s eyes widened. Just as something was about to come out, she quickly covered her daughter’s eyes.

“Don’t look!”

Several customers groaned. Others turned away.

A few seconds passed.

Then everyone remembered the fight.

They turned back.

It was already over.

Sean lay unconscious on the floor.

Dinello stood over him, one hand still raised from the karate chop he had just delivered to the back of Sean’s neck.

Nobody had seen it happen.

Again.

Dinello looked around at the confused customers, then down at Sean.

Suddenly, an idea came to him.

Sean would make a pretty good piece of performance art.

Dinello grabbed him under the arms and dragged him to an empty table. He sat Sean upright, leaned him back comfortably, and adjusted his arms and legs until he looked like an ordinary customer resting after a long day.

Dinello studied him.

Something was missing.

He found a cigarette and carefully placed it between Sean’s lips, then stepped back and admired his work.

Perfect.

A few minutes later, paramedics rushed into McDonald’s with a stretcher. They found Kyle still unconscious, half his body stuck inside the overturned trash bin, pulled him free and wheeled him toward the exit.

None of them realized Sean was unconscious too.

Dinello watched them carry Kyle away, then looked toward the counter.

The line was still enormous.

He glanced at Sean sitting comfortably with a cigarette between his lips, then at Kyle disappearing through the doors on a stretcher.

After everything they had been through—

they never got to eat McDonald’s.

Later that night, McDonald’s was closing.

The lights had dimmed, most of the tables were empty, and an employee walked through the dining area checking for the last remaining customers.

Then he noticed Sean.

Sean was still sitting comfortably in the exact same chair, his eyes closed, the cigarette resting between his lips.

The employee walked over.

“Hey, excuse me, sir. We’re closing.”

Sean didn’t respond.

The employee waited.

“Sir?”

Sean remained completely still, seemingly smoking comfortably with both eyes closed.