McBrega
~or, The Name, McBrega~
~By Oculus~
~
“Hewwo, can fwuffy take your ordah?”
Will could not believe his eyes. The past day had been long and fruitless, as he had been going to various woodworkers to sell them lathes. Most of the woodworkers he had approached already had their own set of lathes to work with. Will had also tried approaching members of the Amateur Woodworkers Club, but to his dismay, most were not interested in getting their own lathe. Being hobbyists, they were usually perfectly content with using the lathe provided by their club. After so many hours on the road, Will was hungry, and had a hole in his stomach. And yet, he had to make sure that his hunger was not playing tricks on him.
Because here was this cartoonish animal, asking if he would take his order. Or, not exactly a cartoonish animal. It seemed like a realistic depiction of a fluffy pony, like the ones he saw in the cinema, not too long before he fought in the first world war. He pinches his cheeks. No, he’s still awake. He then places his finger on the fluffy pony. The fluffy recoils, but Ray could sense the soft fur, on a warm body. It’s definitely real.
Though taken aback, Will composed himself, and asks, “So what’s on the menu, little guy?”
“Weww, we hab sketties, and burgahs! Ooh and awso ice cweams, miwkies, cowa and woot beew!”
Upon taking a few seconds to process the incredulity of the situation, Will blurts out his order.
“Hamburger, fries, and a Coca-Cola.”
Within five minutes, a human man dressed in a uniform similar to the fluffy came out to the counter with Will’s food. Will Kroc had eaten at B & W and Marble Castle restaurants before, and Kroc had surmised that this restaurant was following a similar practice – food produced quickly and wrapped up. No cutlery, no waitresses, no long wait times.
Will proceeds sit down at his table. From across the aisle, he observed a family of four. A father, a mother, and their two children. And a white fluffy, that had been assigned to their table for entertainment purposes. Watching them, with his arms crossed, was a large Caucasian man wearing a black shirt. From his firm posture and lack of expression, Will could tell that no soul would dare lift a finger on the fluffies in this establishment.
The white fluffy then announced to the family, “Fwuffy wiww gib bestest singies!”
“Am singing in da wain, just singin’ in da wain
Wut a wubwy feewing, ‘am happies egen,
Am waffing at cwouds so dawk up abuff,
da sun’s in da heart and am weady for wub…”
The fluffy was singing in clear fluffspeak. Observing the fluffy, Will was not sure if the fluffy actually understood the lyrics.
“Hewwo nice mistah!”
The fluffy that was standing next to him was a cute little blue thing, wearing the same uniform and cap as the fluffy that had taken his order earlier. Will was a little taken aback, but the fluffy seemed friendly.
“Hello, lil’ miss,” he greeted her.
“Hewwo nice mistah! Fwuffy am Tina. Nice mistah wouwd wike ta heaw a song?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Wut wouwd nice mistah wike fwuffy ta sing?”
Thinking for a moment, Will remembers a song, one he had heard two decades ago on the radio.
“Pennies from heaven.”
Smiling, Tina closes her eyes, and took in a deep breath.
“Ewewee time it wayns, it wayns
Pennies fwom heawen
Duhn’t ‘ou knu each cwoud contayn
Pennies fwom heawen
‘ou’ll find ‘our fortoon fawwing
Aww ovah da’ town
Be shur dat yur umbwewwa
am upside down,”
Will was enamoured. Tina sang the song so beautifully that he had completely ignored his hamburger and fries. For those five minutes while he was listening to the song, his mind casts back to the time when he just a young child. His parents had taken him to their birthplace of Prague, where he watched a marionette show of a singing horse. It was a re-enactment of a similar show that Will had seen in the nickelodeon’s back home, but it was different. His mind sees a slow transition, from the cartoon horse singing, in both nickelodeon and cinema, to the marionette horse singing, until he sees this fluffy, singing before him.
“So how are you finding the restaurant, sir?”
A man with a grin on his face asked this of Will. He shared some facial similarities with the stern, black shirted man, but he seemed more jovial.
“Maurice McBrega, but you can call me ‘Mac’.”
“I’m just amazed by the fluffies you have here! I can see why this place is popular, even at lunch time!”
“We do our best, sir. And from time to time, a family would have an interest in buying one of our fluffies.”
“How much do you sell these little critters for?”
“Fifty dollars.” That came out of the black shirted man who had been patrolling the floor of the restaurant.
Will balked at the price, as he exclaimed, “Wow!”
“We’re charging for a premium product here. The irony is, people are more than willing to pay. Some of the wealthier folk even buy two of them.”
“I guess I should introduce you two. This here is Henry, the eldest in our family. He was born two years after Irving and I.”
“In that case, how do you produce these fluffies on demand?”
“I’ll show you the lab.”
~
As contrasted with the family friendly operation that was going on above, the laboratory in the basement was sterile affair. It was plain white with dry air, as the people who worked in this lab had to wear masks and hair nets. All around, Will could see various equipment, each being manned by a technician. Off-hand, Will could count about five stations, at which each technician was working on a different part. At the other end though, were vats of liquid, each containing a fluffy pony.
“You make fluffies?”
“All in-house. Despite the high price tag, people keep wanting to buy our fluffies. Fortunately, we’re able to produce a new fluffy pony within a day.”
One of the technicians notices a tour was being conducted. As he walks up towards Henry and Maurice, he removes his hair netting. Will notices that this technician looks almost exactly like Maurice, but wearing spectacles. Upon reaching them, the technician asked kindly, “And who’s our guest today?”
“Oh Irving, this is Will Kroc. He’s a lathe salesman.”
“Lathes? Sounds good. We’re going to need five lathes to replace the ones that just broke today.”
Will’s eyes opened as he heard the amount that needed. “Five lathes?!”
“Yes. Do you have them now?
Also, I’m Irving McBrega. I see that you have met Henry and Maurice.”
“Yeah, I have I had heard about these things. But doesn’t it take an entire week just to make a biotoy?”
“It used to. But we managed to speed up the production.”
Will continues to survey the lab around him. It seemed incredulous that just below the family friendly restaurant where he had lunch was a highly sophisticated lab that was able to produce biotoys on demand.
“This restaurant is the most remarkable thing I’ve seen in all my years in the food-service industry.
You have got to tell me more about this.”
~
It was a warm evening when Will went to meet the McBrega brothers at the local steakhouse. He had learnt that the three brothers were the America-born sons of the McBrega family, a pair of Scottish-Irish migrants who came to America as children.
As Henry noted, “Following the Summer of ’29, the three of us went our separate ways. Unlike Irving and Maurice here, I wasn’t really into the science of things. I wanted to see the world, which is why I joined the Navy.”
Following him, Maurice then narrated, “In my case, I went to New York. I remember working at the Afton’s Automat for many years, which was one of the first to have animatronics. Being a technician, I was heavily involved with the manufacture and care of the animatronics.”
“While that was going on, I saw much action, with the last war I was involved in being the Formosan War.”
“The Formosan War! God, I heard that was hell.”
“It was, but I came in late. Saw some action, but not a lot.
Not too long after the war ended, I was stationed at Taipei. One day, I was feeling hungry, and I wandered out of the camp to the nearby city for dinner when I made a remarkable discovery.
It was a pet café. As in the café I went in was filled with cats. The proprietor, a Chef Wing Han Tsing, mentioned that he had the idea of people eat and dining with the various cats at the café. They could also play with them, and, if they paid enough money, they could adopt a cat.
Chef Wing wanted to bring the concept to America, but I told him it was a little pointless. It was not going to take off here.”
“And yet you have this café.”
“The café was kind of my idea,” explained Maurice. “I spent quite a long time working in New York that I decided that I wanted to start my own food establishment. Not too long after the war ended, I wanted to start one near Hollywood, but getting a spot there was difficult. Eventually, I settled for a spot here in San Bernadino.”
“Interesting. Why such a big move?”
“Well, Henry got back from Formosa, and wanted to settle down. Henry told me about the pet cafe, and I thought to myself, that would be a swell idea!
But in the first year when tried it out, not too many people came. People were more used to the automats and diners that had the animatronics. In contrast, they saw the pets as ‘boring’. I even had one owner tell me that, if he wanted to eat with his dog, he would do it at home.”
“Well, that’s sad. But why biotoys?”
“That’s where I come in,” said Irving, adjusting his glasses. Compared to the other two brothers, Irving was a lot quieter. However, this was his time to speak.
“During the Big War, I was working for the Allies in developing robotics. I had a background in the biomedical sciences, particularly bioengineering, and one of the fields that the Allies were looking into was biobots. Of course, the war ended before we could apply any of our discoveries or findings into action, but that was when the biobot idea went commercial.”
“Biotoys?”
“Exactly, yeah. I heard about ‘The living teddy bear of Princeton’, and while I was studying for my Bioengineering Degree at the UCLA, I decided to work on my biological- based animatronic. I settled for a pony, as the other universities were already doing some variant of rodent or miniature bear.”
“Irving was going to just sell his fluffy biotoy on the market, but I thought, what if we could take it further?”
“So the three of us, we came together. Maurice with his familiarity with working in food and animatronics, Henry with the pet café, and Irving with his biotoys. We reopened our McBrega diner, but this time advertising our fluffy pony biotoys as interactive entertainment.”
~
That night, Will couldn’t sleep. There was something about the idea that felt big. Like it was too big to be kept to a small area in that part of California. By the time morning broke, he made his way back to the McBrega’s outlet. Seeing Henry and Maurice loading up a crate of biomatter from a truck, Will yelled out the magic word.
“Franchise!”
“What?”
The two brothers brought Will in, as he made his pitch.
“I say, franchise the damn thing! You got a brilliant idea here! It’s too good to just be one location. There ought to be a McBrega’s everywhere. Coast to coast, sea to shining sea. And I’m just the man to help you do it. I’ve spent the better part of my life criss-crossing this country, and gosh darn it I know every nook and cranny of these beloved United States.”
“We tried franchising. But at the moment we only have five other outlets.”
“Five? Why just five?”
“The other five do not have a lab. This outlet we have down here, with the lab and the restaurant? We produce biotoys for the other five smaller outlets.”
“Then maybe you just need a supervisor for the next workshop you’ll build.”
“We tried that too. Didn’t work out, the supervisor got sloppy.”
As this was going on, Will noticed a painting of a diner. It looked a little similar to the McBrega’s diner but, it had two arches on each side.
“What’s that?”
“Oh that?” noticed Maurice, beaming with pride. “That’s my idea there. We have it at the five other outlets.”
“Mac calls them the Golden Arches.”
As Will pondered upon the painting, Henry got to the point.
“Will, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but the three of us don’t feel like we’re ready to go bigger just yet. It takes a lot of logistics that we’re just not quite ready for it yet.”
~
A dejected Will Kroc had reached home.
His house was quite empty. Though he was able to earn a living as a door-to-door salesman, he lived as frugally as he could. Years of travelling and failed opportunities had taken its toll on him, and while he kept himself motivated through various means, there was a reality he had to face every day.
On the mantlepiece was the three people who had loved him the most – his parents, who had died of old age, and his wife, who had died of cancer not too long after the war. All three of them had supported him when he was a young and budding salesman, whether it was starting his own barbecue restaurant with his buddy Jeb, or selling latest gadgets like the bone density scanners.
Will goes up to a gramophone, and loads a disc onto the turntable. Reclining on a chair, he listens to a song that helps him sleep.
Every time it rains, it rains
Pennies from Heaven
Don’t you know each cloud contains
Pennies from Heaven
You’ll find your fortunes falling
All over the town
Be sure that your umbrella
Is upside down
But tonight, Will didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to quench one curiosity in his mind. Getting back into his car, he started travelling. Richard mentioned that one of the smaller outlets was in Phoenix, Arizona. Driving his car, he crosses by the various towns. In every town he passed by, he saw two recurring things. A town hall, with the American Flag, and a Church.
Soon, he finally reached his destination. The outlet in Phoenix that Henry had talked about. It was much smaller outlet, an outlet designed for distributing fast food as opposed to the diner ambience that the main McBrega outlet had. But the one thing that this outlet had was the Arches that Maurice had thought up of. When looked from the side, one could see a giant yellow M radiating brilliantly in the night.
~
The next day, Will was back at the main McBrega outlet, and was banging on the door.
“The hell is with this guy,” muttered Henry, as he responded, “What is it, this time Will?”
“America.”
“What?”
“Listen if you boys don’t want to franchise for yourselves, do it for America.”
Within minutes, Will had brought the three brothers into the building, as he explained the concept to them.
“Now I’m gonna sound like a right heretic, but, in every town I had come across, I would always see two buildings. A courthouse with the American flag, and a Christian church. Episcopal, Catholic, Lutheran, Baptist, Calvinist, Adventist, Mormon, all of them have the crucifix. Now, when I saw your concept for a future building with arches, I felt something resonate within me. That there was something similar between the arches and the flag and the cross. And what does your establishment share with the cross building and flag building? A place where decent, wholesome folks can come together and be with others.
Those arches mean more than simply “cute fluffies inside”. They represent family. Community. They represent goodness, togetherness, a place for Americans to come together and break bread. McBrega’s can be that, too. Surrounded by fluffies, a wholly American creation. To me, McBrega can be The New American church, feeding bodies and feeding souls. And not just on Sundays.
Seven days a week.
Crosses. Flags. Arches.”
The brothers were sceptical. But, in Irving McBrega’s mind, there was a yearning to bring the McBrega formula to a larger mass. They did take pride in their biotoys, and Will had won them over with the idea of bringing the message of McBrega to more than one community.
Within a week, the brothers had drafted a contract. Kroc carefully read it, and noticed the important detail.
Kroc shall receive one and nine-tenths percent (1.9%) of net profits generated by franchisee(s), with one-half of one percent (0.5%) of said net profits paid to the McBrega brothers: Henry, Irving & Maurice.
Without a second thought, an eager Kroc signed his name on the contract.
~
About a month later, Will had found a place where he would set up his first franchise – Des Plaines. However, there was a hold up.
“Whats going on Henry? I’m supposed to be breaking ground in two weeks, and you haven’t gotten back to me yet on the floor plan.”
As he was on-site, he had to rely on a public phone booth to reach the main outlet.
“You asked for some significant changes to our floorplan.”
“I’m just asking for a basement and furnace. Every building in this area needs a basement and a furnace.”
“We’re still waiting for our architect to thoroughly review the changes you mentioned.”
“Well then, has he looked at it yet?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re breaking my balls here, Henry.”
As this was going on, a young man was tapping on the glass of the booth.
“Excuse me sir, excuse me…”
Will held up his hand to tell the young man to stop his tapping, while waiting for Henry to finish.
“Will, you need to take a breath. You just started.”
“I just started, but I’m not gonna stop.”
And with that, Will slammed the phone down. Bursting out of the doors of the booth, he yelled out an angry “What?!”
“I’m s-sorry sir,” cowered the young man, as he explained, “I saw this flyer that says you’re looking for a fry cook.”
“Oh. Oh yeah. Sure kid.”
~
Months later, Will was on the floor of the first franchise, the one that he would personally supervise. As it was his first day, he had to be on-site.
“Straighten that hat! Make sure the fluffies are cleaned properly! Let’s go, boys!”
Noticing an employee who was looking a little sleepy, he quickly barks out, “Grab a mop! If there’s time to lean, there’s time to clean!”
Word had gotten round about the opening of the new-fangled fluffy café in Des Plaines. As arranged, the crew were busy manning the kitchen and running it efficiently, while the fluffies were among the crowd, entertaining the various families and patrons there. Despite Will’s insistence, Irving had not arrived yet to show the staff how to operate the lab and manufacture a biotoy on demand. As such, a large sign was posted saying that the fluffies were not for sale today.
Problem is, people just wouldn’t read.
“But mommy! I want that fluffy!!”
“We’ll pay you a hundred, Mr Kroc sir.”
“I’m sorry but, the fluffies are not yet ready for sale.”
“Well, we’ll pay two hundred then.”
At this moment, a young man stepped forward and tapped Will on the shoulder. It was the fry cook, and he was on his tea break.
“Sir, is it true that you need to make a new fluffy to account for the loss?”
“Yeah, why?”
The fry cook whispered in Will’s ear. Upon hearing that news, Will’s face started to beam.
“You know what ma’m – just for your beautiful princess, you can have little Daisy here.”
And the little girl jumps for joy.
Not too long after closing time, Will was downstairs in the underground lab. Surprisingly, the fry cook showed a strong familiarity with the equipment provided by the brothers, and was able to produce a fluffy pony template, along with the brain that was needed. While an hour was left for the process to finish, this one fry cook had managed to provide the know-how to make a bio-animatronic on the spot.
“How come you’re familiar with all of this equipment?”
The fry cook explained, “My dad used to be in the biotoy business a few years back.”
“Interesting. What’s your name, kid?”
“Nolan sir. Nolan Turner.”
~
“So Will, what’s this new business venture of yours?”
Will was at the house of the Berenstain’s, a Minnesotan family. Jeb was an old friend of Will’s, and Jeb’s son had just graduated recently. To celebrate, the family was having a small barbecue. But Will was also here for a different kind of business.
“It’s brilliant, Jebediah. It’s this new concept I saw in San Bernadino. The brothers got a brilliant idea – a family themed restaurant, where those new-fangled biotoys will literally greet and sing for you!”
“A family themed restaurant with biotoys? I fail to see how it’s going to catch on. They tried that with animatronics back in New York.”
“No listen. It’s like a new kind of entertainment. It’s like having literal cartoon animal come up to you and serve you. Plus, they take requests, and they can sing any song you want them too. And best of all, the brothers gave a blueprint as to how they can manufacture their biotoys on demand!”
Jeb sighed. He was about Will’s age, and he had seen it all. The two had worked on some attempts at business in the past, but they never worked out.
“I can see why you’re into it, but why didn’t you start it under your own name?”
Will did hear that question, but he knew he couldn’t answer it. Yet. Seeking to change the topic, Will decided to press on.
“So what do you say, Jeb? We were in the food and beverage business for a few years.”
Sighing, realizing that he was being roped into another caper by his best friend, Jeb relented.
“Alright Will, I’ll give it a shot.”
~
Will got to work. The success of his first franchise in Des Plaines had convinced him that his great plan would work. It became a sort of routine for him, as he sought out the people he needed.
On Tuesdays, he would go to messes where blue collar couples would congregate. These were places where Jebediah and he knew fellow blue-collar families. These were the people who would make good franchisees. But aside from the smaller satellite outlets, he needed to get people with expertise. People like Nolan who were familiar with the creation of biotoys. He started to place ads for young graduates, ideally from the biomedical fields, to suggest starting out in making bio animatronics. It became a routine hunt. Seek out middle-class investors like Jebediah to main the restaurants and the outlets, and biotech graduates to man the few labs he had to open.
And every corner, there was a speech he would give.
“I’m looking for a few good people! Hustlers! Scrappers! Grinders! Men and women willing to roll up their sleeves, people with fire in their bellies! I stand before you today offering something more precious than gold: opportunity. Opportunity to advance. To succeed. To get your shot at the brass ring, the American Dream. For McBrega’s, like this great nation itself, is a true meritocracy. If you’re willing to put in the work, if you’ve got the gumption and the guts and the desire, the sky’s the limit at McBrega’s. Put in the necessary elbow grease and, by gum, I promise you there’s a pot of gold waiting for you at the end of those Golden Arches.
So, who’s with me?
Who’s ready to strap it on and step onto that first rung of the ladder of success? Who’s ready to make that glorious upward climb, ascending into the hard-won heavens of success and prosperity?”
And at every university, town hall, and recruitment drive that he attended, there were hands. Old and young, male and female, White American, Native American, African-American, Latin American Asian American, they all raised their hands, wanting to help McBrega manifest its destiny.
And every night, whether it was returning from checking on his franchise or recruiting people, Will would return home.
“Daddeh Wiww!”
Athena, or Tina, was there waiting for him. About a few months after he successfully opened the Des Plaines outlet, Will Kroc decided to buy himself Tina. The same Tina that had greeted and performed for him on the first day he ate at McBrega’s. Being a biotoy, she didn’t need to eat much food, and could be docile for most of the day. At least until the evening, when a timer within her would awaken her. She would spend most of her evenings playing with the building blocks as she waited for Will.
Like a robot though, she could only understand or perform a few specific actions. Having a limited mind, Will had difficulty getting much interactivity from her beyond simple childish play. And yet, a tired but grateful Will would ask of her only one thing each night.
“Tina, sing for me pennies from heaven.”
~
Will Kroc is now standing before a map of the United States of America. On the map, various red push pins are nailed, mostly clustered around the regions of Chicago and the Upper Midwest. With each pin representing a franchise that he had opened in, Will marvels at his own effort. Despite the restrictions and lack of aid from the brothers, Will was slowly bringing the Gospel of McBrega throughout the homeland.
“Sir?”
Will turned around. It was his assistant, Friday.
“We have a small problem,” she noted, as she brought the financial ledger to Will. Will observes the numbers, then realizes a very worrying fact.
“How the hell are we out of capital?”
Friday’s finger points down to a column of figures.
“What’s that.”
“Your revenue. The monthly cut of the stores.”
~
“I want to renegotiate.”
Will was on the phone.
“Renegotiate what?
Will has the copy of the contract in his hand, as he replies, “My deal. I’m barely enough to cover my monthly expenses, much less drive expansion.”
“Will, those were the terms. You’re earning more than three times we do.”
“Then you oughta be getting more, too.”
“I’m not a greedy man.”
“It’s not about greed, Henry, it’s about taking care of the company! If I had more money to work with, we could be growing at twice the pace. We haven’t got a single location in Pennsylvania. Or New York!”
“All in due time, Will. We don’t have to rush.”
“I’ve been working my butt off for you boys.”
“And you’re doing a great job. It wouldn’t be fair to the franchisees if we gave you more.”
“The franchisees are doing just fine. I’m the one who needs help!”
“You freely and willingly agreed to the terms of your deal, Will. Deal’s a deal.”
“Four percent,” Will bargained.
“No.”
“Three and a half.”
“No.”
An exasperated Will yells out, “GODDAMMIT!” as he slammed the phone down.
~
Will was at the lab of the Des Plaines outfit. While meat and bio material could be sourced easily, the demand was getting too high, and the lab was not ready to produce enough fluffies to meet it. And despite the sales, the money was not enough to cover the cost of the machinery.
“It’s unbelievable what these suckers cost to run.”
Nolan Turner was by his side. Nolan was now the head of the Des Plaines franchise, allowing Will to focus on his recruitment efforts.
“I hate to admit, but this was why I ended up as a fry cook.”
“You were studying biology and your family was working in bio animatronics!”
“Yeah but my dad had put all of our money into that business, and it didn’t work out. One day, I found him dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear Nolan.”
“It’s alright, Will. People forget there’s a reason why the biotoy business doesn’t always work out.”
~
“You seem pretty down.”
Will was at a steakhouse with Jeb. Jeb wanted to talk to Will about the rising costs he himself was experiencing in his own franchise in Minneapolis, as well as the difficult he was facing with trying to meet the high demand for fluffy pony biotoys in his area.
“Yeah, it’s all these costs. I’d never thought that running a lab would be so expensive.”
“Well, old buddy, I decided to do a little bit of research into those Irish boys of yours.”
“I think they’re Scottish.”
“Point is, I dug up something a little bit interesting.”
Jeb takes out the magazine, and shows Will a recent copy of Scientific America. In medium but bold sized lettering, the article read out “Further Development in Bio-engineered Equines.”
But there was something else that caught Will’s attention. It was the picture of a scientist, carry a few critters in his arm. And Will’s eyes widened, as he realized what they were.
“Those are baby fluffies!”
With all the fluffies that he had encountered and sold, almost all of them were “adult”. Will had suggested that the brothers released a smaller “baby” version of the fluffy pony to the public, but the trio shut it down. But here, in this very picture were fluffy pony foals. But something seemed off about it. Why was this in the Scientific American?
“Did Irving ever tell you what he actually based the blueprint off of?”
~
“Teehee speshu fwen, fwuffy gon’ catch 'ou!”
“Nuh uh, siwwy fwen! Fwuffu am fasta!”
Jeb and Will observed the farm. Unlike the sterile setting of the lab he had been building under his franchises, the farm he was seeing was lively and energetic. It reminded him a lot of the restaurants themselves except that, instead of American families, it was American fluffies. Divided between various kennels, the fluffies were being tended to by various agricultural scientists, who were checking on their well-being, as well as their offspring.
“Dr Belyayev, I presume? We met over the phone.”
“You may call me Fievel.”
Jeb and Will observed the farm. Unlike the sterile setting of the lab he had been building under his franchises, the farm he was seeing was lively and energetic. It reminded him a lot of the restaurants themselves except that, instead of American families, it was American fluffies. Divided between various kennels, the fluffies were being tended to by various agricultural scientists, who were checking on their well-being, as well as their offspring.
Up till now, Will had thought the fluffy pony biotoy design was just something that Irving came up with. But this farm seemed to be much older.
“About two hundred years ago, my ancestor, Dmitry Belyayev, inspired by the collaboration between Charles Darwin and Gregor Mendel, wanted to understand how the first men domesticated dogs. We all know that dogs came from wolves, proven by wolves being able to interbreed successful with dogs. He was sponsored by the Tsar, and decided to see if he could domesticate foxes.”
“Why foxes?”
“Foxes are in the same canine family as dogs. Dmitry had the theory that, if he could focus on breeding foxes that had a neutral or gentle disposition towards humans, he could slow understand the genetics that made foxes docile. From there he figured out what made foxes able to digest human food, as well as the traits that made foxes loyal to their human masters.”
“I had a pet fox once,” mentioned Jeb with an off-handed air.
“I’m happy to hear that. It was thanks to my ancestors that pet foxes are an option. Other breeders copied his idea, and brought it throughout the world. In fact, my great-grandfather came to America with the dream of continue the research into genetics.”
As they continued the tour, Jeb and Will could hear the sound of a male and female fluffy engaging in some form of rough activity behind closed doors. They were unsure what it was, but the sound was deafening.
“Enf! Enf! Enf!”
“What’s going on in there?”
“Mating. We control who mates with who.”
Both franchisees were a bit put off by that revelation
“My great-grandfather, Isaac, converted to Judaism. To escape the anti-Jewish sentiments of the Russian Empire, he and his part of the family immigrated to the US. Upon reaching American shores, he set up a farm and a lab to focus his research on genetics.”
“What has any of this got to do with fluffies?”
“I’m getting to that. You see, having mapped out the fox genome, and successfully making foxes like dogs, Isaac and his brother wanted to see if their discoveries in domestication could be applied to other animals. Genetic engineering was still in its infancy, and they wanted to make a new kind of pet. Both of them had an interest in horses, so they wanted to develop a sort of horse that could be kept at home.”
“So, fluffies?”
“Not exactly. At the time, they were called ‘dandies’, or fancy dandy horses. My grandfather wanted to take it further. Being the big dreamer he was, he wanted to create an animal that could speak. His brother however was against the idea. His brother wanted to sell the dandies as they were. With that difference in mind, they drifted apart, and my great-grandfather took his part of the research program to the US.”
Having said that, Fievel looks out to the sky. In his mind, he could imagine seeing the East, the opposite of free world, on the opposite side of his world.
“Apparently, they are still selling those dandies in the USSR. I have not kept in contact with that side of my family though, we’ve gotten too distant.”
There was a little statement that caught Will’s ear. He wanted to inquire a bit more about it.
“You said, a pet animal that could speak.”
“Yes.”
Will had been observing the fluffies that were playing about. He realized they were speaking in the same cutesy and childish manner that he had heard from the fluffy pony biotoys.
“Why aren’t you selling these fluffies then?”
Fievel explained, “They’re not quite ready yet.
We managed to achieve an animal that could talk and reason like a human, but the problem was that its learning capacities were limited. To put into context, the average African Grey parrot has the mentality of a five-year-old. Try as we could, the fluffies we developed never seemed to fully mature like an adult human, or get out of the lisp.”
“And why is that?”
“We’re still trying to figure it out. I suppose one way to think of it is that fluffies do not mature in the same way as humans do. Also, their minds are not as advanced, so they may not be able to understand higher human concepts.”
“The lisp seems popular though. And I think the average buyer seems to find them cute enough to ignore their simple-mindedness.”
“Ah yes, I know what you’re talking about. I actually know Irving McBrega.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“We were both working in the same Biotech division during the Good War. Not too long after it ended, I actually invited Irving to our farm, and to see our work into developing a new kind of pet. A talking pet. I even gave him one of our fluffies as a pet.”
Sighing, Fievel then admitted, “Then, a few years later, I got word from a friend that he saw Irving showing off a bio-animatronic based off my design.”
Kroc was shocked. “That sounds like theft. Why didn’t you sue?”
Fievel shrugged, as he explained, “Didn’t have the money. We’re not exactly a big farm. Also, I didn’t really patent the design of my genetically engineered fluffy, as it was not yet finished. The brothers picked up on that fact, and made a bio-animatronic that worked off my design. Besides, they were selling a bio-animatronic, not a real fluffy, so it was not like as if they were stealing my actual research.”
~
Will was on the floor of a cage. The doctor had invited Will to participate in a simple experiment of his.
“Bring out the porse!”
As he said this, a small, capybara sized creature walked into the cage. This porse shared much similarity with a capybara, saved that it had horse hooves instead of paws, and occasionally grunted a few neighs.
“This was the porse design that my grandfather perfected, based off his father’s work.”
“He doesn’t seem very sociable.”
“They’re not. They’re rather docile, like capybaras. We’ve sold a few as exotic pets, but it wasn’t quite enough.”
Having finished saying that, Fievel then yelled out, “Bring out Marty!”
The moment the cage was lifted, a bright orange fluffy ran up towards Will. Wagging his tail, and his mouth wide open, Marty jumps on Will like an enthusiastic dog, keen to meet its owner.
“Woah!”
Will was overwhelmed by this enthusiasm, as Marty belted out, “Hewwo nyu mistah! Mistah am nyu fwen ob doctah?”
“Why yes,” said Will, stroking Marty’s head then side, “I guess I could count as a friend.”
Turning to Fievel, Will asked, “I take it Marty is a success?”
Fievel sighed, as he lamented, “Not really.
Marty has a congenital heart defect. He is enthusiastic and happy, but I’ll give him about five years, tops.”
“Poor thing,” both Jeb and Will noted. But Marty didn’t care. He didn’t really understand the previous sentence, and was just happy to have made a new friend.
“These things, these fluffies, they can breed, right?”
“Yes, and quite well. The average fluffy dam produces a litter of about four to eight foals, and females can reach sexual maturity within half a year.”
Will’s mind was starting to process what he was hearing. It sounded perfect. As opposed to sourcing for carrion and bio matter to make the animatronics, he could rely on the natural reproduction of these original fluffies.
~
But the response from the brothers was swift.
“No, Will!”
“Oh come on,” Will pleaded over the phone, “Do you know how much it costs just to make the brains for these things? As well as all the wiring?”
“Will, you’re asking us to replace our bio-animatronics with actual animals! Animals with needs!”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”
“Will, we’re NOT in the pet business! We’re selling, BIOTOYS. “
“If you’re worried about the regulations, I can arrange a meeting with the USDA. Besides, the doctor mentioned that the fluffies he breeds are all neutered, so the population can be controlled!”
“Will, this is NOT what we’re about! Families don’t want to go to a restaurant where the cute fluffy pony suddenly wants to go to the bathroom! It’s the reason why we went for the animatronic angle in the first place!”
“I’m just thinking we could save costs. Plus these fluffies can actually learn. Not that different from your average McBrega worker. Just put them through a few hoops, make sure they dress and act properly, and we can save our costs.”
“No. Is. No. Will. You’re under our contract, we’re not going to allow this!”
And this time, Henry McBrega slammed the phone down.
Hearing the emptiness from the phone, Will slumps down his chair. In front of him was the notification of the mortgage. Bringing his face to his palms, he could feel all those years of failed business opportunities and dead-ends final coalescing.
“Wiww? Wuts wong?”
Will turns around. Marty looks up to him. Will had decided to buy Marty from the doctor, as the doctor had no further use for him. In the distance, Will could see an oblivious Tina, playing with her building blocks.
“Come up here, Marty,” Will beckoned. Marty, concerned for his friend, jumped up, giving his full undivided attention to his master.
Will tries to think. What story would he tell to this little creature, to explain what he was going through?
“Did I ever tell you the story about David and Goliath?”
~
Will Kroc is now at the bank. He felt like the little shepherd boy from the Book of Samuel, facing his greatest challenge yet.
“You’ve got to give me a chance, please.”
“I’m sorry. You have to build more equity in your home or pay down the loan.”
“My business is booming. “
“I don’t care.”
As this was going on, a young businessman was overhearing the conversation. Looking across his shoulder, he eyed a desperate Will, pleading before the banker.
“You say your business has 13 locations. Is it your business?”
“Not technically, per se. I’m the head of franchising. I’m the one behind all the growth. Have you ever been to a McBrega’s?”
The name catches the businessman’s ear. It had to be him.
“We’ve got three stores right here in the Chicago! I’d be happy to give you a tour!”
“Not interested.”
~
“Can I help you?”
“No, but perhaps I can help you.”
The businessman hands Will a business card. On it read the following: “GERT VANNEVAR - VICE-PRESIDENT OF FINANCE – BUSH BIOCHEMICAL.”
“Thanks. We’re perfectly happy with our current biomaterial supplier.”
“I’m not looking to sell you biomatter.”
“Then what do you want, Gert?”
“You may call me Gerry. I caught a bit of your conversation back there. Sounds like you’re having some financial troubles.”
“And why don’t you mind your own business, chump?”
“I’m a great admirer of McBrega’s.”
“That’s very nice, Gerry”
“I’ve been eating at the McBrega’s in Waukegan at least three times a week now. And it’s always packed. Even bought a fluffy for myself from that place.”
Will stops in his tracks, realizing that Gerry had a point.
“If you’re not making a fortune Mr Kroc, something must be very wrong.”
~
A short time later, Will and Gerry were at Will’s own private office within the Des Plaines outlet.
“So to summarize, you have little revenue, no cash reserves, and an elephant of a contract that requires you to go through a glacially slow approval process to enact changes–if they’re approved at all. Which they never are. Am I missing anything”?
“I believe that covers it.”
Gerry thinks for a moment. After a few minutes, he then asks, “Tell me about the land.”
“Land?”
“The land, the buildings, how that whole aspect of it works.”
“Well, it’s pretty simple really. The franchisee finds a piece of land he likes, takes out a lease. Usually lasts two decades. He gets himself a construction loan, puts up the building, and off he goes. “
“So the franchisee selects the site, not you?”
Kroc nods, unsure why he’s so curious about all of this.
“You supply the training, the system, the operational know-how, and he’s responsible for the rest?”
“That is correct.”
Gerry processes revelation, and seems a bit troubled by what he is hearing.
“What’s up?”
“A big one. You don’t seem to realize what business you’re in. You’re not in the food business. You’re not even in the biotoy business.” Laughing, Gerry points out, “You’re in the real-estate business. You don’t build an empire off a 1.4 percent cut of a meal, or from the occasional sale of a fluffy pony. You build it by owning the land upon which you do your business.”
Will goes up towards Gerry, giving him his undivided attention.
“What you ought to be doing, Will, is buying up plots of land, then turning around and leasing said plots to franchisees, who as a condition of their deal should be permitted to lease from you and you alone. This will provide you with two things: One, a steady, upfront revenue. Two, greater capital for expansion. Which in turn fuels further land acquisition, which in turn fuels further expansion. And so on and so forth.
Land.
That’s where the money is. And control. Control over the franchisee: Fail to uphold quality standards, you cancel their lease. Control over the McBrega brothers: Their power stops at the building’s foundation. Yours goes to the soil.”
Will is absorbing all this advice, registering the full significance of what this more experienced businessman is telling him.
“But If I were to do this… the brothers… this would effectively…”
“Yes, Will.
Are you ready to do some business, Will?”
~
In the following months, Gerry started arranging for Will to have meetings with bankers and investors in New York City. Will had told his grand vision for McBrega to Gerry, something that he confidently presented to conference rooms of heavy hitters. Will was doing good business, but Gerry was accelerating it. Kroc was Main Street, but Vannevar was Wall Street. Kroc may be a salesman, Van Evre was a bona fide businessman.
The brothers had been largely unaware of this rapid expansion, as well as big land acquisitions that Will was making, until one day, a rather piece of unassuming mail had reached the San Bernadino outlet.
“Have you heard of the Franchise Realty Corporation?”
Mac turns, as he sees Henry holding a letter.
“What is it? “
“I have no clue. But apparently Will Kroc is president and CEO.”
Will was anticipating this call.
“You know full well you can’t do something like that without first clearing it.
“And why would I need to do that?
“Why? Because as your deal plainly states, any and all changes must-”
“It’s not a change.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not a change. It’s a company. An entirely separate company. Which it outside of your control.
“Anything relating to McBrega’s is within our—"
“You boys have full say over what goes on inside the restaurants. But outside? Above? Below?.. Your authority stops at the door. And the floor.”
And Will slams the phone down, satisfied with himself.
~
Will was now at his new home. Not only was he able to pay off his mortgage, he was able to rent out his old home, while moving out to a nice and bigger house.
“Welcome back Mr Kroc,” his maid greeted him.
“Howdy. How have the little ones been?”
“They’ve been doing just fine, sir.”
“Daddeh!!”
Both Marty and Tina rushed to meet their owner. A smiling Will was happy to see the two fluffies who had kept him company all this while.
“How’s my little champions doing today?”
“Daddeh, Mawty weawn a nyu dancie!”
As he said this, Marty gone on his hind legs, and started to rotate his arms about. Will realized what dance this was.
“That’s the Twist! Where did you learn that?”
“Weww, fwuffy saw da teevee, an’ fwuffy see aww da siwwy hummehs do nice dancie!”
“And how about you, Tina. Gave the Twist a try?”
Tina got up on her hind legs. However, her movement was robotic, and almost pathetic. Unlike the more agile Marty, Tina, whose mind was only programmed to know a few dances like the cakewalk, struggles to perform this new dance.
“Tina twy hew best, daddeh.”
“I know.
Dear ol’ Tina, I’m fine with you just singing.”
As Will strokes the head of Tina, he eyes Marty, who was energetically practicing his new dance. Marty was better than Tina in more ways than one. Even though he had more needs, and was more hyperactive, Marty felt like an actual companion in contrast to Tina. While he wouldn’t let himself be removed from either fluffy, if someone had a gun to his head, he knew which fluffy he would keep if he had to lose the other.
~
Not too long after this, Will had arranged a meeting with Dr Belyayev, with an offer. A most outrageous offer.
“I… I’m not sure about this Will.”
“We could roll it out. Offer customers a chance to try out your fluffies. Advertise them as a ‘new product’. One that can actually learn and has more interactivity than the old custom-mades.”
Gerry was at his side, as he pointed out, “Plus working with your fluffies can help save our costs.”
“And,” added Nolan, “working with us will help facilitate your research in ways you couldn’t before.”
Fievel was hesitant. To him, his fluffy ponies were still rather incomplete. But the research was expensive, and he did have to finance research with the sale of the occasional defective fluffy as an exotic pet. But here was Will offering him the chance of a lifetime.
“So whaddya say, Doc? Wanna do some business?”
~
And with a few weeks, Will got another call.
“I just got a very disconcerting call. From George Jepsen. Our operator in Sacramento.”
Kroc was on the other end, with Gerry, Nolan and Jeb listening in. Kroc with a smug, cocky air, replies with an, “Oh?”
“He told me received a shipment of five fluffies from the Belyayev farm.”
“Oh, so you know about that farm?”
“We have no interest in Belyayev’s inferior product.”
“And if you’re not interested in saving costs and making a profit, that’s fine. But please don’t stop the rest of us.”
“Us?!!”
“Us. As in everyone but you three stooges.”
“Who did you send them to?”
“Everyone but you.”
“You have no right, Will. You are to stop this instant. Is that clear?”
“Nah.”
“Nah?!! What the hell’s that mean?!”
“It means I’m done taking marching orders from you lot. I have a far better understanding of McBrega’s than you three clowns.”
As this was going on, Maurice was at the table. He was breathing heavily, and was trying to get Henry’s attention. Exasperated, though on the phone, Henry yelled out, “What is it Mac?!!”
“Th-th…. This came in the mail today.”
A furious Henry rips open the top of the envelope, almost tearing the letter within. Quickly unfolding it, he reads its contents. Now, his temper was dialled to an eleven.
“You’re terminating the contract?!”
“Indeed, I am.”
At this point, Irving, being disturbed by the commotion from upstairs, was in the office. He notices the letter.
“What the… McBrega Corporation?!! Did you just the change the name of your real estate company?!!”
“Indeed I did.”
But the most insulting thing was something that Mac noticed. A little symbol on the head of the letter. A logo that was co-opted by the McBrega Corporation.
“Th-that’s our arches! That’s MY arches!!!”
Mac snatches the phone out of Henry’s hands, yelling against this recalcitrant foe.
“IT’S NOT YOUR COMPANY, WILL!”
Both brothers were shocked by this outburst. Maurice had always been the softest of the three, but now his patience was being tested.
“We came up with the idea of having cute fluffies being with the customer. Us. What did you ever come up with, Will? Name one thing. You can’t. Because you never have and you never will. You’re a thief! You’re a fucking crook!”
That one line changed Will’s expression. Prior to this, he was smug, gloating over his victory over these three. But this accusation triggered something deep in him.
“You call me a thief. Look at you three. You three took the pet restaurant idea from Formosa, when you could have taken up on Chef Wing’s offer to franchise in the US. And you based your blueprint for the bioanimatronic off the fluffy pony that you bought from Dr. Belyayev.
And you DARE to call me a thief?
I worked my ass off to bring your idea from coast to coast while you three kept to yourselves in your little cozy corner. You three kept hindering me at every turn. And you call me a thief.”
Maurice was starting to hyperventilate. Feeling giddy from the shock, he sat down on the nearest chair. As Henry tended to his collapsed brother, Irving got on the phone. His voice was calm, but stern.
“We want you out of this company. We’ll sue you.”
“You three couldn’t afford to sue me. Even if you win, the court costs would finish you.
I’m the president and CEO of a major corporation with landholdings in 17 states. You run a diner in the middle of a desert.
I’m national. You’re fucking local.”
~
It didn’t take long before Will made the big offer to the brothers McBrega. It was a shock, but at this point, the trio couldn’t do anything to stop the rapid expansion that Will was making. The three did discuss it but eventually, all three agreed to the same conclusion.
It was early in the morning at the McBrega Corporation when Will got the call from Henry.
“$3.7 million. A million for each of us after taxes. And one percent of the company’s profits in perpetuity.”
Ray thinks a bit on the offer.
“Deal.”
A week later, the buyout was finalized in the presence of the lawyers for each party. Kroc’s lawyer read out the terms of agreement.
“Our client agrees fully to your conditions of sale. With one exception. Your one percent cut of future corporate earnings will have to be carried out on a handshake basis.”
“On the insistence of my investor group,” Will explained. “Their financing is dependent on leaving it out of the contract. It’s unfortunately a dealbreaker for them.”
The brothers looked at each other, extremely wary.
“You have my word you’ll get your full due royalties.”
Will extended his hand. Henry was the first to do the handshake, his mind at ease, followed by Irving. Maurice hesitated, but nonetheless, shook Will’s hand.
~
A few minutes after the meeting was settled, both Irving and Will found themselves in the toilet. The two men kept their distance from each other. And then, before Will could leave the toilet, Irving had to ask him a question.
“There’s one thing I don’t get.”
“And what’s that?”
“That day we met, when we gave you the tour. We showed you everything. The whole system. Why didn’t you just-“
“Start my own place using your fluffy café idea?”
Irving nods.
“Because it would have failed.”
“How do you know?”
“Do you even remember Chef Wing? And how he wanted to bring his pet café concept to your home town?”
“Henry said it wouldn’t have worked. That when people think Chinese, they only think takeout and Chinatown.”
“Exactly. They wouldn’t go to a pet café with Chinese food in an American suburb. Not with a Chinese name. Same for Belyayev. He may be American, but he’s got that Russian name and association, which is why you got away with copying his design.”
Irving was still puzzled. Will was hinting at something the brothers had that both the Formosan Chef, and the Russian American scientist, didn’t have.
“See, Irv, It’s the name. That glorious name of yours.
McBrega.
It’s American. It sounds American. Compare that to, oh, say, Kroc. It sounds Slavic. Beatnik. Commie. Would you eat at a place called Kroc or Belyayev’s? Or a Chinese place like Chef Wing’s?
But McBrega’s, now that’s a name. A fine, handsome, all-American name.”
“But it’s a Gaelic name.”
“Do you think the average American would know that?
That’s the mistake your competitors and imitators made. They assumed they could simply take your idea, slap on some name like Fluff’s R Us or Fluffy King, and they’d get rich quickly. Not me, I knew better. I knew there’s no beating a name like McBrega’s.”
Will turns his back on Irving and opens the door. Irving, reflecting on what Will just said, asks him a final question.
“So, if you can’t beat them, buy them?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
~
It is 1963.
Two years had passed since Will had bought the franchise from the McBrega brothers. The McBrega corporation was doing very well for itself, and was now setting its sights on the first overseas outlet in British Columbia. But something special was going on today.
There was a hubbub in the headquarters of the McBrega corporation, as Will was about to announce something. A beaming Will was standing in front of his board. He could see the smiling faces of the people who got him where he was now. Nolan. Jeb. Gerry. May. And they were all giving his undivided attention, wondering what was behind the veil on the easel he had in the boardroom.
Upon removing the veil, Will reveals a picture of a cartoon fluffy. It is much like the ones that Ray had seen as a child, all those years in the nickelodeon. This design was done by a cartoonist that the McBrega corporation had hired, a young Walt Iwerks. It was of an orange fluffy, wearing red sneakers, with a pep in his step.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you all to Marty McBrega.”
~
Epilogue:
The Des Plaines McBrega’s that Will Kroc first managed is still around, and is currently the old surviving McBrega’s outlet in the world. It is also one of the few outlets that preserved the original “lab + café” model that the McBrega brothers started with.
Kroc later reneged on the handshake deal for the one percent cut of royalties. The brothers never received a cent. Today, that one percent would be worth $200 million annually. Each.
From the moment Kroc took ownership, his business card listed his title as “Founder”. Until his death decades later, calls to McBrega’s headquarters asking the origin of the name were told it was made up, or that it was the name of their mascot, Marty McBrega.
Despite this, Henry McBrega never regretted making the sale. Following the sale, the McBrega’s focused their San Bernadino business towards making custom-made designer fluffies. Irving’s son, Roy McBrega, would later join McBrega as an executive, with his father’s blessing. He currently sits on the Board of Directors.
In 1971, Maurice died of a stroke. His brothers Henry and Irving would pass away in 2001.
Jebediah Berenstein would later depart from the McBrega Corporation. He started his own biotoy franchise known as Jeb Bear’s Pizzeria, as well as its associated Jeb Bear biotoys.
Gert Van Evre, or Gerry Vannevar as he’s also known, was McBrega’s first chief executive officer and president. Under his leadership, McBrega made numerous acquisitions in film and media, and oversaw the building of McBregaLand in Cleveland, Ohio.
Dr Fievel Belyayev was McBrega’s Chief Research Officer for many years. However, he and Will Kroc had a falling out in 1970. Belyayev sold all his shares in McBrega’s and became the corporation’s most vocal critic. Upon leaving McBrega, Belyayev focused his efforts towards fluffy education and shelters, until his death in 1990. Today, he is heralded as a champion of fluffy pony rights.
Nolan Turner eventually succeeded Will Kroc as Senior Chairman. Turner expanded the McBrega’s operation to more than 100 countries, and oversaw the opening of the first McBrega’s outlet in Russia.
As of today, McBrega is the largest restaurant chain in the world. It feeds 1% of the world’s population, and remains to be a major distributor of the world’s fluffy ponies.
Marty lived to the ripe old age of twenty.
. But jokes aside, really glad to see bio-lathes and fluffy cafes getting a decent treatment in this work, they are some of my favorite topics.