The Korean Burger

I had a burger today that was mainly mayonnaise. The patty was like a sweaty piece of liver that had leaked mayo all over the other inhabitants of the bun. I felt like some sort of sick-freak sucking at a wet tissue as I tried to glomp the whole sloppy mess down my guzzler. I mean, I love mayonnaise. I basically have sex with Kewpie such is my desire for the white-demon. But this was crazy over the top. Like the amount of thigh this chubby woman was showing on the train this afternoon. Holy manatee oh the humanity!

Lets not fuck around. I respect the burger maker. He gave me the real deal. Obviously he was a fiend. Some kind of strung-out egg-jam chuzzlepot. He'd worked himself up to a high level of tolerance. His liver was producing enough bile each day to rip and disperse fat like some sort of NASA grade detergent. I mean, his gall-bladder was the size of a blood orange. I could see a lump in his polo-shirt just south and to the right of his belly button. The guy was chasing 'clag-clag' harder than any man I've ever seen (this includes dead men). He thought I could hack it.

He thought I could take that eggy-jizz and digest. But I'm only used to small binges. I'm not a lifer. Just smash it every now and again when there's nothing else going. I couldn't take it. It made me feel like my organs were going to grease out of me in one foul schlooooop. I could feel small clouds of clag puffing themselves around my heart. I was fucked.