Doubled Over

I did something stupid recently.

You see, I’m the kind of person that likes to get really ridiculous food when I can. Things I’ve never tried before, things no one else is willing to try, things that would likely kill someone; that kind of stuff. I’ve wrapped potato chips in bacon, poured clam chowder on fried eggs, and even ordered a baconator from Wendy’s. None of this prepared me for the kind of nonsense KFC is pulling right now, though.

This thing.

This fucking thing right here.

Everyone’s been talking about it. People who haven’t eaten it speculating how quickly it will kill you, people who have eaten it wondering if they’re going to die, and KFC all the while telling us that it’s the best thing to ever happen to food.

I love how they act like we’ve been asking for this for years.

I actually bought one of these monsters (the combo with potato wedges and a drink in case I found myself unable to stomach the ‘sandwich’ or if I just wanted to be that fat). I took the bullet so you don’t have to, and I really recommend that you don’t. You don’t feel good buying it, you don’t feel good eating it, and you certainly don’t feel good afterward. If that doesn’t deter you, and you find yourself still wanting to double-down on the bet against your life, then at least let me describe the experience you will go through.

When you first get the sandwich, you may still think you’ve made a good decision. It smells like anything else from KFC, so you’ll be lulled into a false sense of delicious security.

Don’t worry. This good feeling will pass.

When you open the box and actually look at what you bought, the first thing that should be apparent is that it doesn’t look like a sandwich where the bread is replaced with chicken. It looks like a pile. Just a mess of food piled on top of each other.

KFC has done such before

Touching the sandwich, you will only be greeted with a greasy feeling that doesn’t go away. I don’t mean that metaphorically, it isn’t shame. It’s actual grease. It cuts through the wax paper they give you, and I’m surprised it doesn’t eat through the little cardboard box or paper bag. Don’t bother with napkins, they won’t do anything anyway. Just accept your greasy hands as your very own scarlet letter.

When you eat it, you’ll notice the taste isn’t anything unexpected. Chicken, bacon, cheese, sauce. All of those flavors together and yet separate somehow. The first few bites will be fine as long as you like KFC, but sooner or later the vast amounts of grease and salt will have you feeling a fast food coma long before you finish. As a very astute friend of mine put it, it is like “taking a bite of the last moments of your life.”

The worst part, however, is the aftermath. I don’t feel comfortable describing it without setting this entry up with some kind of mature rating, so…

…let’s just call it a vague warning.

VERDICT: I’d eat it again. Keep in mind, though, that I hate myself.

*Thanks to Biorr for the best descriptive phrase ever.*