cult of grimace

Once upon a Midsummer's feast, arose a tale from the hearty East,
Of a gentle giant, purple and plump, who lived for joy, not gold or lump.
His name was Grimace, creature so sweet, to whom the world danced at his feet.
In the realm of Golden Arches, he lived, where laughter rung and tales were lived.
With friends of red hair, hamburgers, and a clown, in this fantastical land, he wore the crown.
Grimace, the soft, the gentle, the vast, in the hearts of all, his image was cast.
Each year came the date, so joyous and grand, when Grimace's birth swept across the land.
Children laughed, burgers flipped, the melody of the Happy Meal - music that whipped.
Gathered they under the moonlight's crest, for the celebration of Grimace's blessed fest.
The day was marked with cheer and song, to celebrate the one to whom they belong.
Shakes of vanilla, chocolate, and straw, nuggets golden, the crowd in awe.
Through their tribute, their loyalty swelled, in this happy land where they all dwelled.
But not all stories are of light and mirth, some hide in shadows, veiled by the earth.
For in the corners of this golden realm, a group gathered under a secret helm.
They called themselves the "Cult of Grimace," their love for him, no jest, no farce.
They donned robes of purple, deep and bright, under the cover of the moonlit night.
Their faces masked, their voices a hum, they gathered around the shake-drums.
With hushed whispers and secret nods, they worshipped Grimace, defying the odds.
On the eve of his day, under starlit cover, the cult planned a ceremony like no other.
A monstrous shake, the biggest ever seen, for their beloved, their king, their queen.
A tribute to Grimace, in all his glory, the heart of their faith, their sacred story.
As dawn approached, their task complete, a milkshake mountain, an impressive feat.
The sun rose slow, the sky turned bright, and upon the scene burst morning light.
The Golden Arches shone with delight, as the spectacle gave quite the sight.
Grimace awoke, greeted the day, and saw before him a milky array.
A shake so vast, so sweet, so pure, his giant heart could not endure.
His purple cheeks flushed deeper still, in the face of such a heartfelt thrill.
The Cult of Grimace stepped forth, unmasked, their faces glowing in their task.
"Happy birthday, Grimace, king of our heart," their voices a chorus, never to part.
"Our tribute to you, in sugared delight, to honor you in the morning light."
With a heart full of joy, Grimace did grin, his birthday indeed, let the feast begin!
And so it was, in the land of the Golden Arches, their story of devotion, as time marches.
To Grimace, the giant, the legend, the friend, they sang their praises, love without end.

[@menteencoma]

Hot dogs and hamburgers 🎶

[@ItsYourDistraction]

Wow deep cut 🤣

[@PiMpiNx187]

Lol

[@ItsYourDistraction]

thank you lol