Halloween Haunts at McDonald's Drive-Thru Sends Reporter McRunning

Halloween time is upon us; the Eve of All Hallows, also known by Pagan Celts and Wiccans as 'Samhain' (pronounced, 'Sow'-an'). It's the season for witches and goblins, ghouls and ghosts. A time for tricks and treats, and drive-thru windows that go bump in the night.

That's the claim of patrons at a McDonald's drive thru window in Lawrence, Kansas.

The macabre reports include strange, incomprehensible voices coming from the drive thru menu speaker, bags of fast-food, that when taken home, are not even close to what you originally ordered, incorrect change being given to patrons, and reports of missing time experienced by customers in the drive thru while waiting to be served.

In the parking lot of the McDonald's, we met paranormal researcher Agnes Bumgartner--a full figured woman in her 60's, with jet-black hair, less a shock of white hair down the center, clad from head to toe in black, and wearing more silver jewelry on her body than the restaurant has McNuggets. Agnes thinks she may know the cause of the not-so-happy meals.

"Ten years ago this month, Susan Hargrave sent her husband Matthew, to this very McDonald's drive thru to pick her up a Big Mac and a large coffee. She told her husband to make sure to order it with no pickles and no onions. When he returned with the sandwich, she discovered it did in fact have pickles and onions, and in a fit of rage, she murdered him. Police found his lifeless body covered in blood and special sauce, and a McDonald's coffee stirrer embedded in his skull," Agnes said. "It was a horrifyingly gruesome crime scene; forensics had a hard time distinguishing what was Matt, and what was Mac. Susan was later found not guilty by reason of insanity, and took her own life one week later. According to officials at the psychiatric hospital where she was committed, the only thing Susan ever said was, 'no pickles and no onions'."

GT News asked customers exiting the drive thru if they were familiar with the recent haunting, and if they sensed anything out of the ordinary.

"I haven't heard anything about it, but now that you mention it, these french fries are ice cold," said David Goode, holding up a limp fry. Agnes, the full time ghost hunter who was in attendance, quickly added, "Sudden temperature fluctuations are a common occurrence of paranormal activity, so it doesn't surprise me at all." Mr. Goode quickly sped away.

Marge McCurdy, 81, of nearby Kanwaka, was as white as a sheet, and nearly ran us over, as we flagged her down. "Look at this garden salad," she screamed. Clearly spelled out in cheddar cheese, atop the lettuce, were the words 'Rest in Peace'. McCurdy left the scene without taking back the salad. Our GT News photographer Brad, removed the cheese and ate the greens for lunch, and besides a little indigestion, suffered no ill effects. When asked if he was afraid of the cheddar cheese, and therefore removed it, he replied, "No, I'm just lactose intolerant."

We took our expert, Agnes Bumgartner, along the drive thru route with us, and we witnessed what parapsychologists refer to as a 'psychic cleansing', which is a less ritualized form of exorcism, whereby a dwelling or site is purified and malevolent influences are banished through prayers spoken as the petitioner moves through the area.

A chill ran down the spines of the entire GT News crew as Bumgardner, in an attempt to contact the spirit of Susan Hargrave, and calling on the powers of psychometric healing and telekinesis that are ascribed to the chakras in her hands, ordered the meal Susan never got a chance to eat on this physical plane: a Big Mac with 'no pickles and no onions', and a large coffee. Brad and I were starving and added a #3 with a diet coke, a filet-o-fish with extra tartar, and a large Hi-C. We kept our fingers crossed as the otherworldly voice on the other end directed us to the second drive thru window. I nearly McPeed my pants when our food order totaled $13.13, which is also the street address of the restaurant.

Agnes' eyes were now rolling into the back of her head, her chanting almost too much to bear as we approached window number three to pick up the order. I tried to answer when the employee asked, "salt, pepper, ketchup?" but the words would not form. I was now wishing I had never volunteered to cover this story.

I screamed in horror as Agnes removed the Big Mac from the bag, slowly unwrapped the sandwich, and two pickles fell into the psychic's lap. The drink carrier Brad was holding then gave way, sending hot coffee, diet coke and orange drink throughout the interior of the van.

Agnes suddenly became a woman possessed. She repeated the mantra spoken ten years prior by the homicidal Susan Hargrave; "no pickles and no onions, no pickles and no onions."

She then raised the Big Mac in one hand and the coffee stirrer in the other, and like a scene out the movie Psycho, attacked Brad with a ferociousness that would have made the Hamburglar cry for his mommy. Agnes screamed out in pain as I, acting on instinct alone, smeared tartar sauce in her eyes, temporarily blinding the malign entity, and buying us enough time for Brad to push the possessed psychic out of the van. She fell with a thud to the asphalt as Brad stepped on the accelerator, leaving the possessed woman and the haunted Mcdonald's in the rear-view mirror. The two small napkins included in the bag were barely enough to clean the secret sauce off of Brad's face so he could drive us to safety.

We never found out what happened next, and frankly we don't care. From now on, when I visit a McDonald's, I'm eating it in the Mcdining room provided.