AKA Abraham Bacoln

Okay, let me preface this by saying this is all the fault of Gabe and Tycho over at Penny-Arcade. They brought the knowledge of this monstrosity to me (comic, associated newspost) whereas if they had not I might never have heard of it, as I try not to watch the teevees and therefore missed whatever commercials may be associated with this.

I am, of course, speaking of Burger King’s Loaded Steakhouse Burger (as mentioned in my last blog post). Let me quote to you directly from their insidious marketing: “The New Loaded Steakhouse Burger from BK is just that, loaded up with crispy onions, baked potato topping, A.1. Thick & Hearty Steak Sauce and a slice of American Cheese on top of a 100% Angus beef patty.” They will tell you it looks like this:

Now of COURSE we know it doesn’t look like that. It can’t look like that. Nature won’t allow it. There is at least one other blog fully dedicated to comparing the visual nature of products as advertised versus as delivered, and that’s not my goal here.

Though there is, later on, my picture of the beast.

But back to the story.

I went to Burger King, my heart heavy in my chest, with the knowledge that I must vanquish this leaden foe. There had been some discussion in the office regarding “baked potato topping” and what truly that entailed. Eventually we decided that it must be basically mashed potatoes. Couldn’t think of anything else it could be. Not topping for potatoes but topping of potatoes.

I walked up to the counter with no wait. A late teenage girl stepped up and said hi. She had a moderate Southern accent and was tall and thin, and looked like she’d just gracefully transitioned from that gawky adolescent state into the woman that she would become.

“May I take your order?” or somesuch pleasantry, and delivered with a mostly genuine smile even.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” I sighed.

“What’s that?”

“Tell me, have you had this Loaded Steakhouse Burger?” I inquired, already knowing the answer.

“Um … no. No, I’ve had the regular Steakhouse Burger and it was good. But that one? No.” She looked perhaps simultaneously conspiratorial and taken aback, as if she had been instructed by her dark masters not to reveal her consumption habits, yet she never thought she would actually be interrogated.

A young man of moderate height stepped into view. He looked as if he had been taken fresh from the pages of some lower-rent catalog that was trying to look like a good alternative to Abercrombie & Fitch, price-wise. Perhaps that was just the effect of him having to wear a BK uniform.

“I’ve had both and it’s better without,” he opined, unasked, and with a quite genuine smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah, the regular Steakhouse Burger is great. The other one …” his voice trailed off.

“Well, damn. I told my friends I would eat the Loaded Steakhouse Burger,” I sighed.

With great glee the young lady said, “Okay! One Loaded Steakhouse Burger! You want to make that a meal?”

Yes. Yes I did. But I wanted it small, ’cause I knew that this was a bad idea.

“What … what is the ‘baked potato topping’ anyway?” I inquired, a futile gesture as I was already condemned.

“Oh, it’s like a loaded baked potato – sour cream, cheese, bacon, you know, all that. And the potato.”

Good lord.

In short time I received my order and walked that long slow walk of the damned back across the restaurant, to the farthest darkest corner.

I will torture you no longer and now reveal the horrifying image of what was given to me.

Like any Lovecraftian protagonist I can hardly tell you what transpired past this point, as if the journey past the apex and the ensuing descent into madness left my eyes clouded and my memories clean, my inability to truly process the horror transforming me a dry useless husk.

Except that’s not really true, as I can remember much of the short story I was reading for Spanish Lit class, but very little about the burger itself. I can verify that it does hang over the edge of the bun, as pictured. It did have all the listed ingredients. The barbeque sauce was a bit too strong for the sandwich.

I wanted to stop halfway through.

I ended up stopping at three-quarters. It was just … something in my brain overrode my arms. I found this out when I tried to turn the page and nothing happened. There was a tiny coup d’etat and until my arms and hands agreed to a declaration of cease-fire there was to be no more physical activity.

I feel a worse man for having undergone this.

But you, my friends, are better off, for you may live vicariously through me, and you may learn from my mistake.

Or should you not, then may God have mercy on your soul.

This is not the brave Vincent Van Gogh I remember. No, this is a weak and sheepish impostor, not fit to wear his beard. A TRUE Vincent would have eaten the entire burger, even if he was reduced to dropping his one-eared head low to the table and eating it right off the wrapper. SHAME, sir, shame.

Comment by Grey Hodge April 17, 2008 @ 12:30 am

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Way to throw yourself on that grenade, Kevin. I’m sure you’ve done us all a great service.

Somehow.

I’m not sure what, exactly. I’ll get back with you once I’ve figured it out.

Comment by clay April 17, 2008 @ 8:40 am

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I love that on the almost the exact same day I ordered a Wii Fit from Amazon, you went and tried to eat Satan himself.

Comment by Jason C April 17, 2008 @ 9:43 am

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What the HELL is ontop of that burger?

It honestly looks like… I don’t even know what it looks like. What are those? Is that supposed to be chicken? Dear god…

Comment by Joel April 17, 2008 @ 2:15 pm

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Man, I saw the comic on Penny Arcade but I didn’t realize that this monstrosity was *real*! Sure this is too ludicrous a product to actually exist, I thought!

I hope to God that most of the other stuff I see in Penny Arcade isn’t real…

Now I’m going to have to be worried about claw shrimp.

Comment by Homey R April 17, 2008 @ 8:56 pm

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Oh sure, claw shrimp. Live real deep. Big as a man.

Comment by Kevin O'Mara April 17, 2008 @ 10:20 pm

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Kevin, this is the funniest thing I’ve ever read. Although I’m not going to be able to think very much about the burger itself–my system is still a little wonky, and it seems that the fetus is NOT interested in having Loaded Steakhouse Burger.

Comment by Alison April 20, 2008 @ 12:43 pm

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