*This was written whilst listening to “Mystical Magical” by Benson Boone, so I recommend listening to it while reading to get the full experience.*
It was a scorching hot day: birds chirped, tires squealed, angry voices yelled, and the sun glared down at Y/N, as if judging Y/N’s current situation—said situation being stuck in a shabby pizza van (don’t ask) with Y/N’s insufferable extended family. Y/N didn’t know where the van came from. In fact, no one except Y/N’s eccentric uncle, Sernie, knew where it came from.
Sernie—an ancient, balding, caucasian man who could almost always be found spouting out nonsense—was currently driving the van on Highway 150, en route to Yosemite National Park for some fun, exciting family bonding which Y/N was so very excited about.
The terrible idea came into existence during a disastrous family get-together after Y/N’s aunt, Clillary, got into a feud with Y/N’s cousin, Melon (pronounced ME-lon), about the club Melon had joined earlier that year called Magical And Girly Activities.
Everyone had been eating dinner, an awkward tension floating around the table, when all of a sudden Clillary slammed her hand down on the table, sneered, and finally: “So, did you finally leave that horrid cult of yours, Melon?” echoed across the now-silent table. Melon, of course, defended his clique (which Y/N was also half-convinced was a cult), and angrily roared, “You always do this! I’ve told you already, it’s not a cult—and, no, constantly praising our leader, and licking the ground he walks on, and treating every word he says as law, does not make it a cult!”
Navin, Y/N’s picturesque cousin who worked as a CEO and model (and somehow always had perfectly wind-swept hair), cackled in the back, while Oarrack, Y/N’s other cousin who was typically calm and level-headed, sighed and held his head in his hands. Clillary made a skeptical noise and glared at Melon. Y/N watched the argument, silently judging both Melon (because, really, a cult?) and Clillary (who only furiously hated Magical And Girly Activities because its illustrious leader, Tronald, had an affair with Clillary’s husband, Cill).
The two continued to feud, until Melon—ever emotional—finally blew up and threw his plate across the table at Clillary. Clillary, with sharp reflexes developed from years of working in customer service, dodged out of the way, leaving the plate to continue to fly through the air until it finally slapped Boe (Y/N’s grandfather) in the face, knocking him (and his wheelchair) to the ground.
Silence. No one dared to speak, breathe, or even twitch—too scared that Melon’s fit of rage had killed Boe and that they would now be witnesses to a homicide. Luckily, Boe rolled himself back up, wiped away the mashed potatoes sliding down his face, and tightly suggested: “How about we get out of the house and do something? I think being cooped up in here has made everyone a bit stir-crazy.”
Everyone quickly agreed, afraid of what Boe would do if they said no to him, and awkwardly shuffled out of the house and into Sernie’s van, where Sernie then suggested they take a trip to Yosemite to ease family tensions.
Which brought Y/N to now, as the van continued to steadily chug along the highway. Then, a honk, a squeal of wheels, and finally, a communal screech of ungodly fear as all of Y/N’s family were thrown against the sides of the van after Sernie suddenly swerved into the nearest exit ramp. Questions of Sernie’s sanity, if he was trying to kill them, and so on, were yelled into the air, until finally Sernie casually responded: “I want McDonalds, and I just saw a sign saying there was one close by.” Everyone, shocked into silence by the pure insanity of Sernie’s justification, stared—frozen—at him. The rest of the ride to McDonald’s was silent, everyone too busy clutching onto their seats and praying they would make it to Yosemite alive to say anything.
Once they finally arrived at the McDonalds, Y/N broke the silence, asking Sernie to order a McFlurry and fries for Y/N. Oarrack and Navin jumped in next, not wasting a second to get in their order before everyone else unfroze. Y/N finally relaxed a bit, convinced that the worst of the day was over and that Y/N could now peacefully eat and relax for the rest of the ride (though a shiver ran down Y/N’s spine at the reminder of who would be driving). But, because the universe hates Y/N, as soon as they rolled up to the window to get their order, chaos struck.
As the worker handed over their food, a shout of surprise filled the air. “Wait a minute—aren’t you that leader of Melon’s cult?!” Sernie exclaimed. The worker—who truly did look like Tronald with his bright orange, overtanned face, wispy blonde sideburns, and an overabundance of neck-fat—froze for a split second, then blurted, “Look, you’ve got it totally wrong—completely wrong. I’m not the leader of any cult. But I’ll tell you this: if I were, it would be the most successful cult you’ve ever seen. People would be saying, ‘Wow, this is incredible,’ unlike whatever failing thing you’re talking about.”
At the words of the worker (who even sounded like Tronald), Melon—still sensitive from the earlier events of the day—snapped. He launched himself over Sernie’s lap, out the window, and into the restaurant, screeches of “how dare you!” and “it’s not a cult!” following him through the air.
At this, Y/N gave up. The awkward family dinner, the food fight, the soul-sucking van ride, and finally Melon’s tussle with the McDonald’s worker—it was too much. Y/N rolled down the window, unbuckled their seatbelt, and, in an action scarily similar to Melon, launched themselves out of the car through the window, sprinting off into the distance. As Y/N continued to run off into the sunset (making plans to fake their death and move to Mexico), Melon continued to tussle with the Tronald look-alike, Boe wished his death would come then and there, Navid and Sernie laughed, Oarrack sighed into his hands, and everyone desperately regretted ever showing up for the family get-together.