It all began innocently enough at the McBurger restaurant on Main Street. The franchise, a modest operation serving burgers and fries, was a hub of local activity. The manager, Tom Jenkins, a man with a flair for rule-bending, ran the place with his own peculiar style. What began as a simple act of generosity spiraled into a story that would baffle the legal system and corporate giants alike.
Tom had always been lenient about staff meals, but things escalated when his affair with Jenny, the bubbly cashier, became more than just a fling. Jenny soon revealed she was pregnant—followed by the shocking announcement that she was expecting twins. The news sent shockwaves through the staff. Tom, undeterred, extended free meals to Jenny and their growing family, claiming it was the least he could do.
The heat of the McBurger kitchen, they claimed, had driven up testosterone levels, causing a chain reaction among the employees. Within months, the once-efficient team of 12 had collectively fathered and mothered 24 children. Inspired by Tom’s open-handedness, they began bringing their families for meals, and soon, the restaurant was feeding 75 people daily.
The real trouble began when employees started sneaking food for their extended families and friends. On average, 100 people were now dining for free every day. Burgers, fries, and shakes vanished at an alarming rate, and the once-thriving McBurger franchise was hemorrhaging money. Corporate headquarters began to notice the financial anomalies and dispatched auditors to investigate.
When corporate uncovered the scale of the operation, they prepared to shut the restaurant down immediately. However, Tom, ever resourceful, had a trump card. He claimed the extreme stress of working in the hot kitchen had biologically driven the staff to “procreate like wild rabbits.” This, he argued, made McBurger indirectly responsible for the chaos. To bolster his argument, Tom recruited a dubious “expert” who testified that the conditions at McBurger were scientifically linked to heightened reproductive activity.
The case went to court, and to the shock of corporate McBurger, the judge ruled in favor of Tom and his crew. The court ordered McBurger to continue feeding the growing brood and prohibited them from shutting down the location, declaring the employees had a “right to sustenance” under their unique circumstances. The ruling sparked national outrage and disbelief, with headlines dubbing it “The Great McBurger Procreation Scandal.”
The restaurant, now resembling a chaotic daycare more than a fast-food joint, became a media circus. Parents brought their children to gawk at the “McBurger Baby Boomers,” as the kids were dubbed. Meanwhile, McBurger corporate filed an appeal, but the damage was done. Other franchisees panicked, fearing similar claims might erupt at their locations.
Despite the chaos, Tom basked in his infamy. He proposed introducing a new menu item called the “Family Frenzy Feast,” designed to cater to groups of 25 or more. Corporate, however, had the last laugh. McBurger quietly closed the location, citing “irreparable damage to operational integrity,” and relocated operations to a nearby town.
Tom’s empire crumbled, but the story lived on, an absurd tale of burgers, babies, and bizarre legal loopholes.