Friday, February 25, 2005

I decided I would finally post about the Death Murder Burger much like Chris and unlike Ilana.

The Death Murder Burger Epic v2.0
“Hello. I’d like a death murder burger with fries and a milkshake please.”
“Uhhh … quoi?”
“A death … murder … burger.”
“Un moment s’il vous plait.”

Perhaps I should explain. The Death Murder Burger was conceived of by Chris Brandon as a way to eat 4 animals at once. He had been influenced by the idea of the Turducken (chicken stuffed inside a duck stuffed inside a turkey with a vest of ribs and a bacon bow-tie) and one of the special features of School of Rock with Jack Black. What is a Death Murder Burger composed of that it be given such a name you may ask? It is a Quarter-pounder paddy with cheese and bacon on top of a McChicken paddy on top of a Filet-o-Fish paddy all on one bun. The reason for the name is or should be obvious if you have seen Super-size me. The simple truth of the matter is that if anyone ate only this sandwich for more than 2 consecutive meals in a row, instant death would surely be the result whether it be from a clogged artery, the collective shut-down of most of the organs you will probably be wanting if you wish to stay alive or the shutdown of the brain because it can’t believe how unbelievably stupid its host is and feels the sudden urge to kill it and end what surely must be a burden on the rest of the population.

Given the nature of the burger, why then did we decide to go through with it? The answer to that one is quite a simple one. We are young and foolish. We are also quite healthy individuals and feel our bodies can sustain a bit of torment for the illustrious cause of eating 4 animals at the same time. There were also ethical concerns by some (Ahem … Etienne) that were completely unfounded in mine and the other’s minds as we saw the situation and its potential impaction on ourselves, others and the world in general.

Anyways, so what actually happened? It all started on a Monday afternoon/evening around 6:00 when we (Etienne, conscientious objector; Ilana, semi-vegetarian; Oliver, adamant meat eater; Josephine, horror and excitement seeker; and I, prominent advocator of the finer cuts of meat) had decided to meet Chris at the local McDonalds. We were quite hungry at this point having not eaten since lunch or some such, so I decided to head right for the counter.

“Hello. I’d like a death murder burger with fries and a milkshake please.”
“Uhhh … quoi?”
“A death … murder … burger.”
“Comment … uh … C’est quoi ca?”
“It is a [insert ingredients listed above] on one bun. Will you make it for me or should I do the assembly myself?”
“Un moment s’il vous plait.”

The conversation that followed between the boss of the serveuse with whom I had just spoken was the first proof of many to come that we were in fact at the worst MacDonalds in the history of the evil yet successful conglomerate. First she asked the boss if it could be made, so seemed confused so I explained it to her also but before I could get an answer my serveuse started arguing about who should serve me, a major taboo in any service related business, based mostly on the fact that I was one of those Anglophone usurpers and she didn’t have the intimate grasp on the language that is required to understand an order for a few burgers. I thought we were understanding each other as well as possible under the circumstances but I am clearly inferior in this province of enlightened francophones and my opinion is clearly not worth the words they are formulated with.

After at least 3 minutes of banter the boss finally got fed up and raised her voice saying, “No, you serve him and [to me] no you can’t do that.” This was fine with me, so I just ordered the components along with some fries and a milkshake and waited what seemed like at least 20 minutes but was probably more like 15 to get my burgers, seeing Oliver and Josephine order after me and get their food first (I think this is because they ordered in French). When I finally did get my food, I checked and there was no bacon on it! How was I supposed to eat four animals at the same time if there are only 3 animals present to be eaten? Riddle me this! I think this was some sort of joke on us by the staff because they didn’t give any of us our bacon. Chris even had to mud-wrestle to get the coke he had ordered, which was entertaining at the very least.

Finally, we all set down at our tables and started the assembly, peeling off paddies and assembling them onto one bun. I used that of the quarter pounder, or royale with cheese as Pulp Fiction has taught me they are called in France, to avoid the tartar sauce of the Filet-o-Fish. As you can see from the above pictures that it was a bit messy, and as can be seen below, ultimately a very large burger which we all enjoyed eating.

I with my upheld pinky, trying to bring a bit of class to the event. You can see just how big it was by the fact that all our neck muscles are straining to open our mouths that big.

Chris, eyes closed, is clearly savouring the moment as best he can. Or perhaps he is trying to forget that he is a vegetarian so that he can just enjoy his burger.

Ilana wasn’t forced to eat it despite. What this picture seems to suggest. She liked it.

Josephine didn’t like it but she seems to be laughing in this picture.

Oliver, so small and as dainty and ethereal a drummer as can be found, even in Europe is enjoying a chomp down on this mammoth culinary abomination.

Speaking of abomination, as I have mentioned, some people didn’t approve of the venture. In fact I had protestors outside my house the night before, picketing with humorous signs reading, “Make love not bacon!” and “Chutney not Gluttony!” to which I retaliated by blasting the Arrogant Worms song Carrot Juice Is Murder at them until they decided it was a good idea to leave me alone, which took only an astonishing 10 minutes. I think it was my singing along off key that did it. I also threatened to invite Tom over to join me.

So, anyways, we enjoyed our burgers and as taught from a young age, ate all the leftovers buns so as to have no waste. Oliver decided he hadn’t broken enough gastronomic rules for the night and filled his bun with French fries saying it tasted great. I guess the burgers did something good for us because we then had a band practice and wrote a pretty cool song that was more sophisticated that usual. Hurrah for the Death Murder Burger! Here, here and here are some more pictures for you to enjoy and create captions for in the comments.

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Site Meter