The Mystery of Pwackles

I'm doin' this one for Hizz (hope she doesn't mind the abbreviation).
I used to live in Maplewood (or Maplehood). Sometimes later at night I would get a craving for a tarantula (meaning a McDonald's burger). I would drive to the food shop and (attempt to) utilize their "convenient" "drive-thru". Most often I would sit and sit as the car at the window never moved but the driver seemed to have a most wonderful conversation with the female (it was always a female, somehow) employee. Eventually, I would here from the speaker: "Itd be quicker if ya come inside to order". Fuck that. How in the hell do you justify even having a stupid drive-thru if it's quicker to go inside? Aggghhh!!! I always left when that happened. But that's just a story that has little to do with the legendary majesty of "pwackles".
On those instances when I was actually allowed to order, I would always order my tarantulas without pickles (so that they would hopefully be more fresh, as if that makes a difference. See, I have no disinclination towards the consumption of pickled cucumbers. I actually purchased a jar of them this weekend for snacking purposes. I'm just picky about the age of my arachnid.)
Ready? Here is the big reveal: The re-cap coming from the speaker was always pronounced as such: "Dats a Big Mac wit no pwackles?"
Mystery solved.

Nix says: I know it was pointless, but I had a hell of a great time writing it.