According to Gawker:
Marvin Tramaine Hill II was arrested by Des Moines police yesterday after allegedly hitting his pregnant wife with a McDonald’s McChicken sandwich ”because he doesn’t like them.”
The Des Moines Register reports that when police arrived at Hill’s home Tuesday, he claimedhis wife was the one that assaulted him:
Hill said his wife woke him up around 1 p.m. with a McChicken in hand. He admitted to police that he became upset and threw the sandwich at her, then picked up some of the bun, throwing it at her again.
The woman went to the bathroom to clean herself up but Hill followed her and began recording her using his cellphone, which he later shared with police. In the video, police saw the woman knock the phone out of his hands.
Police apparently found Hill’s wife with “mayonnaise on her shirt and face;” she told police her husband “forcefully smashed the bun into her face.” Police arrested Hill and confiscated his weapons license.
Hey, let’s real talk for a second. This sounds like a far fetched, silly story but it happened to me! I had a similar experience. I can’t decide if this is comforting or deeply disturbing.
When I was 21 year old, I dated a guy seven years older than me. I met him the set of a Lifetime movie, where I had been hired as an extra. He did props. He was the opposite of my ex-boyfriend, whom I had just broken up with so, naturally, I was smitten.
It soon became clear that he wasn’t just a prop master, but also a pot dealer. I know this because he would make me come on runs with him in between fun date-like activities. Needless to say, this guy had a checkered past, and a moderately unhinged emotional threshold. BUT, he also had great taste in music, and introduced me to Mr. Show, so he wasn’t all bad.
One night I had planned on coming over after my shift at a Chinese restaurant that had once been very popular in the 80’s. He had had a long day on set and, because I was trying to be thoughtful, suggested I stop at McDonald’s on the way to his place for a treat.
I remember asking what he wanted, but he told me he didn’t care. I should surprise him. So, that I did. I ordered both us an Oreo McFlurry and included a side of fries just for him.
When I arrived at his apartment, I saw that he had fallen asleep on the couch. Poor thing, I thought. I gently woke him up, saying I had a snack for him. Half asleep, he rummaged his hand into the bag, while still reclined. He pulled out the fries.
“Fries? Why did you get me fries?”
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I chose something safe.”
“I don’t want fries,” his voice getting louder.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You should have known. I wanted a burger.” He was on his feet now, all 6’1″ of him. He came lumbering toward me.
“I said I was sorry,” my voice shaking. “I really thought you’d like this.”
“Well, I don’t!” He screamed at me as the satchel of now soggy fries went flying at my face, falling all over the floor.
He stormed off, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
What had happened? Why was I there?
His sister, who was also his roommate, appeared from her room. “What happened?” She asked.
I recounted what had just transpired. She nodded, looking sad but not surprised. She gave me a shrug like, “You’re the one dating him.”
She was right.
I picked up my things and walked to my car. I started to drive away until I saw that he was calling me. I picked up. He was so sorry. What had he done?
I turned around. I spent the night there. I spent a few more nights there until I took a long hard look at this relationship.
What had I done?
Now that I think about the whole thing, I don’t think this story about an ungrateful man is comforting at all. It reminded me of a silly story I have about getting fries thrown at my head. I thought it would be funny to share, but written out…it’s really not.
It’s actually disturbing. Do all of us ladies have to be careful about waking our boyfriends up from naps with food? Should we add this to the list of things we shouldn’t do alone?
Even if the weapon of choice is greasy fast food, violence is violence. It’s hard to know that in the moment sometimes.
Heather is a contributing editor at the-dah. She is a Los Angeles based writer, improviser, snacker, social media mistress, and aspiring adult. Read more of her food-stained stories about growing up weird at Terrible-Twenties.com, or follow her digital alter ego @MissHezah on Twitter.
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