Burger King spiked my co-worker’s fries with a mind-altering substance

I can't believe I ate this

That is the only logical explanation for what I am about to tell you.

It all started with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

We ran out of sliced turkey … and being the financially sensible (read: broke) person that I am, I decided that, rather than eat out, I would bring to work a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

Lunchtime arrived. I was weak. Faint. Famished. I ate the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. It was, shall we say, less than satisfying.

I was fucking starving. To death, even. Death was imminent.

My co-worker, meanwhile, opted for Burger King … a place from which I had not eaten a single morsel in more than 10 years.

It was 2002 when last I visited the kingdom of burgers. During a pit stop at a rest area in New Jersey, delirious from hunger, I somehow succumbed to the vile call of a bacon double cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake. Halfway through that psychotic episode, my hunger-suppressed ability to feel revulsion finally kicked in and I tossed the remainder of my “meal” in the trash while simultaneously using the Jedi mind trick on my wife.

“You shall tell no one what you just saw.”

I shall tell no one what I just saw.

“This is not the meal I was looking for.”

This is not the meal you were looking for.

And so, aside from that one regrettable episode, I have been fast-food-burger-joint-free for roughly two decades.

Which is why I’m convinced that what happened the other day had to involve my unwitting consumption of a hallucinogenic drug.

It must have been on the fries. They smelled so good … and amplified to an unimaginable degree the inadequacy of the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich that was taking up an infinitesimally small part of my still-growling stomach.

Then it happened. My friend offered me a fry. I ate it … and lost my fucking mind.

The rest is a blur. Someone — surely not me — took my car through the Burger King drive-through. I saw a hand reaching out to pay the headset-wearing merchant of death. It looked like my hand. But it couldn’t be … because that same hand was then holding a bag containing Burger King “food.” What madness is this??

Before I knew it, the contents of that bag had found their way into my stomach, and I spent the rest of the day burping and hiccuping and half hoping that the whole fucking mess would come gushing back out of my mouth like a disgusting geyser of fat and grease and “beef” and space-age preservatives that could keep an uneaten Burger King burger in mint condition until long after the sun burns out.

So I’m looking forward to never eating there again.

P.S.: This is why monarchies are bad, people.

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