McDonald’s announced a sweeping price cut on its combo meals today, and the sane part of the internet pretends to be surprised. The move is being pitched as a return to the brand’s roots, where a meal meant more than a logo visible from space.

Executives insisted the change is about affordability, not a mid-pandemic faith in deep-frying as an economic model. Wall Street analysts nodded as if they understood a joke about inflation that only exists in a corporate PowerPoint.

In a press briefing that smelled faintly of fry oil and optimism, the CEO promised customers would finally feel like grownups paying for lunch. He suggested the new prices would make dining out feel normal again, which is a phrase that would frighten any accountant.

CNN reports the move was tested in select markets with a loyalty program featuring surprising rewards, like a free napkin after a predictable transaction.

Franchise owners say the new pricing is easy to explain: people like the idea of a number that ends in 99 instead of a percent sign. The policy document looks suspiciously like a grocery list, but it apparently counts triple burgers as a household budget.

Even the drive-thru voice prompts have been reprogrammed to mention value more than a motivational speaker mentions air. The lines wrap around to reveal a sticker that reads tasteful savings and a photograph of a smiling clown in a team meeting.

Customers lined up outside a Miami location, clutching coupons and a dream that breakfast fries might someday count as a tax deduction. The city felt like a stock ticker for hunger.

Comedians on social media declared the new price cuts a cultural milestone, while some researchers argued it’s just inflation finally learning to behave. People posted memes with clown noses and calculator apps.

Marketing teams watched the numbers tick up and decided that price is a mood now. In an age where menus double as motivational posters, shoppers rummaged apps for meaning and typed into their screens: ‘cheap fast food deals’.

Rhetoric aside, operators report a surge of people asking for the exact nutritional content of the value meal so they can pretend they’re diet-conscious while tasting novelty. Managers promise that the value campaign will be self-funded by your appetite.

Some customers report emotional relief, claiming the new pricing helped them cry less about lunch meetings and more about the weather. The relief is so acute that a frequent diner asked for a coupon for the weather app.

Retail analysts expect a flood of memes about fiscal responsibility, as people reveal their stealth coupons and budgeting hacks. One shopper admitted that the thrill of deal-hunting has become a daily workout, whispering ‘best value combo near me’ as they scroll.

Some critics warn this is a temporary placebo for a crowd that loves landing on a deal more than finding meaning in a salad. The fever may break when the onion ring prices go back to reality.

Advertising teams have drafted posters promising a return to value that reads as if the company’s accounting software learned to smile. Executives hope the campaign will outlive the next quarterly report.

Parents report that kids now ask for the little red box with the toy less often, because the toy is no longer the price of admission but a souvenir. They still ask for fries, which is basically a dowry for lunch.

Economists remind readers that you can cut prices temporarily but you can’t outrun supply costs forever, which is probably the trend line McDonald’s is betting against. The public wonders if the math will hold when the toy budget collapses.

Industry observers say the test could backfire if customers notice the margins shrink to the thickness of a single fry. Critics worry it’s a magician’s trick: pull out a deal, but don’t tell anyone where the cash went.

Meanwhile, the kitchen playlist shifts from pop standards to a soundtrack of sizzling and sighs, a subtle anthem for a consumer buoyed by value rather than virtue. Fry baskets clatter like tiny cash registers and the air smells like optimism with a splash of salt.

A regional manager boasted that the new pricing works as designed while juggling a stack of receipts and a calculator that has seen better days. The staff chews on the riddle of whether a reduced price is the same as a reduced reality.

Public relations specialists warn not to declare victory too soon, or the price tag will come back with interest like a boomerang shaped like a french fry. The cautionary memo ends with a reminder to pretend this is about customers, not margins.

Still, the public’s romance with discount dining endures, and a generation that grew up sharing a single chicken nugget now double-dips in the economy of optimism. Scholars note this is less a rebound and more a scavenger hunt for value in a value-driven era.

Whether this is a clever marketing stunt or a genuine attempt to make fast food feel affordable again, one thing is certain: lunch will never be the same, and the napkins will need raises. The company will probably declare victory before the bill arrives and the fries will clap back with a chorus of crunches.