by Abner Dormiendo

On her seventh birthday, her mother let her have a birthday party at a popular fast food chain. Of course, the girl invited the few friends she had. Her mother invited her own friends and their children as well. That was the history of disappointment and mistrust. About four long tables empty. Untouched packs of spaghetti and burger. Friends with alibis. The cake was brought out and the host was leading the few present voices in singing. Happy birthday sung almost in a delicate, solemn fashion. Happy pronounced with an unnecessary weight. The girl blew the candles, wished for her father to come back. And maybe a few more friends wouldn’t hurt.


The BFF Bundle recently offered by McDonald’s is a package containing three to four burgers of your choice, three to four glasses of soda, and fries contained inside a wide, boat-shaped container filled to the brim. An estimated equivalent of two to three large orders of fries. The customer can opt to replace the burgers with chicken meals instead, whether in combinations of rice or spaghetti. The bundle is good for three to four people, depending on the size, appetite, and paying capacity of the group, among other factors too tedious to name. Of course, one can always finish the whole bundle alone, if one would try hard enough, if one is hungry enough.


Day 10: Make an advertisement-poem. You’re welcome, McDonald’s.

Or not. I’m sorry.

(I’m not even sure if I did this right, and just to get it out here, I haven’t even tried their newest offer.)