I Smell a McRat

"There are a couple possibilities, and the truth is we may never know where that rat came from," Jefferson says. "Is it possible an employee found it out by the dumpster and, whether upset at a manager or playing some sort of prank, placed it in the salad? Yes."

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It's Friday, November 10, at the McDonald's, a couple blocks south of Southlake Carroll High School in a prominent shopping center anchored by Albertsons and Hobby Lobby. Outside is a sign that exclaims "McRib is Back!" and inside an inviting McPlayPlace. There's an employee contemplating the crankiness of the McFlurry machine, two thumbing through a manual and another scarfing down a cinnamon roll. Behind the counter, on the menu marquee beams a reminder: Bacon Ranch Salad $4.19.

Since I don't think McDonald's can possibly screw up orange juice, I order a large cup, along with a side of explain-to-me-how-y'all-served-a-salad-with-a-rat-in-it?

"It's corporate policy not to talk about those things," says the only worker in the joint not speaking Spanish right now. "You're not going to get nothing from us."

The place appears clean enough, yet something seems fishier than the fillet sandwiches. Not because of what's happening. But because of what isn't. In 40 minutes, only three customers walk in. Minutes later, a half-mile down the street at Wendy's, 11 people are eating and three more are in line.

Perhaps the public also smells a McRat.