Motoyasu Kitamura and the quest for Hamburger
It was a Wednesday when it happened. A dream came along, a beautiful dream.
In this dream, you were surrounded by a bright yet comforting white light, clouds to your sides floating in the air. You panicked at first and almost cartwheeled, but stopped yourself when you saw something in the distance.
It was a car, specifically a 1997 ford focus. You remembered seeing one as a child the one time you got to visit that America place, although that memory had long since become fuzzy. Regardless, the flying car arrived, and from it stepped what could only be described as an angel.
The angel handed you a greasy bag before smiling quietly, turning away, and getting back into the car. You reached out to call for her, yet you had no voice. The car flew away, and you finally looked at the bag. It was plain save for a singular Yellow M on the front.
Opening the bag, you found something inside. A hamburger.
What did you do?
In this dream, you were surrounded by a bright yet comforting white light, clouds to your sides floating in the air. You panicked at first and almost cartwheeled, but stopped yourself when you saw something in the distance.
It was a car, specifically a 1997 ford focus. You remembered seeing one as a child the one time you got to visit that America place, although that memory had long since become fuzzy. Regardless, the flying car arrived, and from it stepped what could only be described as an angel.
The angel handed you a greasy bag before smiling quietly, turning away, and getting back into the car. You reached out to call for her, yet you had no voice. The car flew away, and you finally looked at the bag. It was plain save for a singular Yellow M on the front.
Opening the bag, you found something inside. A hamburger.
What did you do?