'Where y'at'? I had slowly been poisoning myself with all sorts of fried food, suspicious fluorescent drinks and neuro-porn in New Orleans. The night was warm and muggy, and I had promised to meet the PhD student for a burger. I think that burgers are his poison just like married women are to a certain high ranking important director of an important intelligence agency of an important country.
Krystal Burger was located close to my opulent hotel, but Krystal Burger was anything but carat in quality. The venue was a narrow premises with horrible fluorescent ceiling lamps that even flies would be repulsed by. The diuretic effect of the preceding beers were taking effect and I was in need to spend a penny. The protocol was extremely disturbing having to be buzzed into the bathroom only to see someone warming the toilet seat.
The choice was too much to take in so I went for a Sampler Combo. I thought I would play the numbers game in that at least one item might be palatable. Off I went with my Sampler Combo upstairs in a bid to view the Bourbon Street pissheads from above. The problem was that the second floor did not have any windows. The ceiling was really high too but that did not stop the sticky stale air from lingering at the oxygen level.
My Sample Combo consisted of a Famous Krystal, a Krystal Chik, a Corn pup and a Chili Cheese Pup.
Famous Krystal: Shocking. If the taste of nothing could taste bad, this did a good job.
Corn pup: Shocking. This phallic entity was a perfectly proportioned geometrical disaster. This thing must have been laser etched because it was so perfectly shaped. Definition of 'shit on a stick' comes to mind.
Chili Cheese Pup: One word: Shockingly shocking.
The HoDown says: gris-gris in a bun.
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