I was visited at my parents' house by a guy I've known online for a while. He's fairly annoying, and our e-mail correspondence is basically one long philosophical argument. Though I've never seen a picture of him, I imagine him to be fairly ugly. In the dream, he was. He looked like he hadn't had either a shampoo or a haircut in quite some time, and his clothes were mismatched and sagged on his gaunt frame. He looked like he had never grown out of the grunge era, and he wore a plaid lumberjack's coat wherever he went.
My parents weren't around when Online Guy (we'll call him Bob) came to visit. Bob and I were sitting in the dim living room, playing Skip-Bo with a plump, frizzy-haired lady who seemed to be a housekeeper or something. I thought she was going to warn me about not sleeping in the same room with Bob, but she didn't say anything. It was nighttime, and perhaps we *should* have gone to bed, but we were bored and decided to go out first. I said, "When Chris used to come visit, he and I were always driving around."
When Bob and I went outside, though, it was sunny. We got in a Camaro that was parked in the driveway, which was apparently his.
"I just learned to drive a month ago," Bob said. And he sped off. We went to a fairly generic shopping center on a fairly generic suburban street... one that looked like a mixture of a couple of Atlanta's suburbs. I complimented Bob on his driving. The upholstery of his car was really messy, though, and this bothered me. There were crumbs everywhere.
Suddenly, Bob let me out of his car in the middle of a parking lot. MY car, my 1991 Mazda, just happened to be there. Bob said, "Meet you at the McDonald's across the street!" and sped away.
I got in my car (which has very clean upholstery, thank you very much), and headed up to the intersection. I had to cross six lanes of traffic to get to the McDonald's. Bob didn't even look before driving the Camaro across the street. Amazingly, he made it with no problems. I sat at the intersection and hesitated. Across the street, Bob got out of the Camaro and shouted, "Just GO!"
So I closed my eyes and shot out across the street. And I made it to McDonald's just fine.
Bob and I headed into McDonald's. I figured we would order, but he led me to one of the seating areas near the back of the restaurant. There were laptop computers on the tables that showed porn advertisements. There were also a bunch of half-naked women in the room.
I was about to ask Bob what the hell he was doing, but then I figured it out for myself. McDonald's had gone into the prostitution business. On the laptop computers, a man (or woman, I suppose) could select what age prostitute he wanted to sleep with. Prostitutes representing the different age ranges were displaying themselves in the seating area (I nearly bumped into the 60-75 year-old hooker while she was undressing). While the order for the hooker was being processed, the man would go up to the main counter and order food. To designate him as a customer who'd be getting laid after finishing his Big Mac, the cashier would give him a milk shake in a cup that read "Ultimate Coke!" on it.
Bob and I sat down with food in one of the regular seating areas. He had a burger, and I had a salad and fries. I was disgusted to see how many people had "Ultimate Coke" cups, including Bob.