Giraffes at McDonald's, or, how did they fit that giant fiend into my Happy Meal?

The actual giraffe I found in my Happy Meal.

As much as I hate to admit it, I've been known to enjoy McDonald's from time to time. It's the french fries. They call to me, voices full of salty, delicious promise. It's nearly impossible to resist their siren song, but I do my best to limit myself to a Happy Meal every now and then. (Yes, I am fully aware of how fattening and gross McDonald's food really is. No, I haven't watched Super Size me. No, I don't ever intend to. And no, I don't want to know what's really in hot dogs, either. Stop e-mailing me.)

My favorite thing about Happy Meals, besides the fries, are the toys. I don't collect them or anything, but I totally unwrap them and play with them while I eat. It soothes my soul.

My most recent McDonald's experience started out like any other. I drove through, they got my order right on the third try and my change was (mostly) correct, give or take two bucks. All seemed well until I got home.

I tore into the plastic wrapper on my toy, all psyched to to play while I savored my McNuggets and fries. Abruptly, I was knocked off of my adorable, perfectly pedicured feet by the giant fiend pictured above. How the hell did they fit that enormous beast into such a tiny box? I mused. It was incredible, but there wasn't any time to contemplate further. I had a freaking giraffe running amok in my living room.

I had to find a way to lure it back into its tiny plastic wrapping and discard it. Stunningly, the ravenous monster paid me no mind. I deduced it must be a baby giraffe, abandoned or separated from its mother before she could teach it how to properly hunt. That or all the time spent wrapped in plastic must have somehow damaged its brain. Either way, luck was on my side as it ran back and forth across the room, slamming into first one wall, then the other.

Most people don't know this, but in addition to tasty, bloody, raw flesh, giraffes also love to eat cookies. More specifically, sugar cookies with M&M's. They find them absolutely irresistible. Know who else loves these toothsome treats? My husband. Which means we always have some on hand.

I rushed into the kitchen as the crazed brute smashed our couch, then careened into the Ikea shelving unit that had taken my husband and brother in law the better part of a week, and 37 cases of beer to assemble. As soon as I opened the cookie jar, the giraffe stopped, nostrils flaring. It turned towards me and began  advancing slowly, following the intoxicating scent of sugar cookies with delicious chocolate bits. I dropped the cookie at my feet and the giraffe bent its creepy long neck and began to eat.

Careful not to distract it, I threw the plastic wrapping back over its head and quickly taped up the bag it had come in. Stupid thing didn't even struggle, it just went on placidly chewing on the sweet morsel. By this time I was completely ravenous. I ate the crap out of those McNuggets and fries, savoring their fatty deliciousness while puzzling over how to discard said giraffe.

Glancing out the window, inspiration struck as I saw the neighbor's kid out riding her tricycle while her mom looked on. I ran outside. "Here," I said, handing her the plastic wrapped giraffe. "I got this in my Happy Meal and I don't have any use for toys."

Both her and her mother beamed at me as I walked away, whistling.