Today, a special report on that long lost McDonald’s treasure, the McSalad Shaker. Tomorrow, a drawing of a demon running the world's worst lemonade stand.

Doubt many of you remember McSalad Shakers. They debuted in April of 2000 -- the same month X-E came online. It was no coincidence.

The McSalad Shakers were, essentially, full-blown salads with all of the accoutrements...shoved into Slurpee cups. Whoever sold the franchise's chief investors on this was clearly a master of mind control, and ten bucks says he wore a cape.

I guess the idea was to package salads so conveniently that no one could continue blaming “ease of eating” on why they picked cheeseburgers instead.

Okay, fine, but my “salad in a Slurpee cup” description is still accurate, and that’s pretty fucking weird. Unless McDonald’s aimed to tap into the rumored market of customers who actively enjoyed looking like idiots while they ate, putting lettuce in Slurpee cups was a suicidal gesture. Maybe, deep down, Ronald had had it.

If the McSalad Shakers were popular for a short time, it was only due to novelty. Obviously, they’re no longer with us. If you were eating fast food in April of 2000, I’m guessing you skipped the McSalad Shaker.

Boy, did you miss out.

Beneath its eccentric exterior was something holy. The McSalad Shakers (there were three types) were artful blends of lettuce torn really small, with tiny strips of chicken, cheese and all other bits of micro-sized mayhem that made me feel like Godzilla when I ate one.

Plus, while I never dared to do it in public, there was something magical about eating salad out of a Slurpee cup. A special Slurpee cup, mind you, with a sealed lid. The sealed lid meant you could drop in the dressing and shake your McSalad like an edible maraca.

The McSalad Shaker was just too beautiful for this world. It came, it saw, but it did not conquer. People liked fries better.

Fortunately for anyone whose interest I’ve piqued, McSalad Shakers are easy to replicate.

You'll just need, you know, lettuce and a Slurpee cup.

Actually, I’m using a real McDonald’s cup, because I forgot about the Shamrock Shake that’s been sitting in our freezer since last month.

After rinsing it out, I raided our fridge and cabinets for anything that had a certain saladosity. It took all of two minutes to turn everything you see into a plea for someone, anyone, to find me, kill me and tell people I deserved it. Because people who spend afternoons fashioning homemade McSalad Shakers do deserve it.

There’s no wrong way to build a McSalad Shaker, but here are a few tips:

One, you want to cut or tear the ingredients into bite-sized morsels. When you eat salad out of its usual bowl, there’s usually one giant piece of lettuce, dominating the field. Don't do that here. Don't let a giant piece of lettuce act like an Allosaurus at a Nemicolopterus reunion. If I have to explain it, it wasn’t worth writing.

Big pieces ruin the experience, and that doesn’t just go for the lettuce: From cheese to meats to whatever else you feel like adding, everything must be SMALL.

Two, try to build rotating layers with the ingredients. Don’t just throw in fistfuls of lettuce and top it with everything else, because I’m telling you, you can run your McSalad Shaker through an industrial paint mixer, and the cheese from the top layer still won’t be anywhere near the bottom.

Three, don’t use balsamic vinegar. I did, and my fake McSalad Shaker’s contents came out looking like the sort of thing an elephant would shit if its intestinal track had been surgically shortened to four inches. These really call for clear or red vinegar, or maybe something creamy.

My McSalad Shaker would’ve come out looking nicer had I considered the dressing's hue or picked up better ingredients, but I'm sure you can see the potential. If you’re repulsed, use your imagination. Seriously, don’t be okay with being repulsed. Don’t be okay with it, because eating salads out of Slurpee cups is incredible. I don’t know why. It just is.

They’re only extinct if you let them be. Make yours today.

Speaking of today: I’m here today. I might not be here tomorrow, and I don’t want to break another promise.