Jake pulled his '97 Ford Ranger into the familiar parking lot. As the smell of greasy fries filled his mind with thoughts of food, he found one open parking spot for his little truck and was soon making his way inside, under that famous golden double-archway. The line was long; he got off work a little later than normal, and that put him behind that great throng of people that he usually beat to McDonald's. Oh, well. He could wait. As the line diminished, Jake occupied his eyes with bright yellow and red bricks in the wall and black-and-white photos of the clown with children who were now grandparents. No one came in behind him, and soon he was left alone facing the cashier. He knew what he wanted, of course. A Big Mac, a Pepsi, and a six-piece McNugget. Yum. The cashier was quick to ring up the order, as if he had lots of experience. As he was about to drop a Jackson-faced bill into the cashier's hand, Jake recognized him from underneath his red visor. "Rodne