Frank deep-fat cremates him and scatters his ashes along with fries in the park.
McNugget Buddies forever, Dipstick Kid and Layabout Louis pay their respects, doodling condolences in tangy barbecue sauce on the restaurant’s comment cards.
They sing a canned music hymn and staff remove their hair nets. Except Frank, who slips off his beard net. Ted always teased him about his whiskers getting mixed up in the beef patties.
‘A shame he died so young,’ says Louis, who’s pissed Ted didn’t leave his gold VIP card – ensuring free Saver Menu double cheeseburgers for an entire year – in his Will.
‘Man, he wasn’t young. He was a real dinosaur, dude,’ points out Dipstick, stabbing a greasy finger in Louis’s onion ring-shaped face. Dipstick still wishes he hadn’t swapped his rare Happy Meal Hot Wheels racer for Ted’s Jerry the Minion.
‘It’s my fault,’ laments Louis, a maths teacher who left over some hoo-ha involving a kid that told wild stories. ‘I knew Ted was lactose intolerant. I should have discouraged him from sucking up that chocolate milkshake.’
‘It was like he was on some kinda suicide mission,’ says Dipstick, poking a fully compostable spoon into his Oreo McFlurry.
When not hunched at the McNuggets Buddies’ favourite table, Dipstick plays Mass Effect 2 – fighting overwhelming odds to destroy a Human-Reaper – in a two-up, two-down where he lives with his mother.
‘Ted was one of the good guys,’ Louis says. ‘Never complained about slow service. Ignored rude suggestions like we should hop it. The only one of us without a restraining order.’
Ronald McDonald doesn’t give the eulogy, because he’s sacked for looking like a creepy clown serial killer.
Frank does his best with ketchup on his lips and a curly wig from eBay. Wipes his tears on his polyester uniform. They slide right off.