Thursday, April 22, 2010

The Schneids Vs. The KFC Double Down.

After all of the chaos, we can learn from this abdominal warfare...



Not to jump on a trendy blog topic, but you know it is frightening when KFC advertises their new all-meat Double Down sandwich with this line of copy:

The new KFC Double Down sandwich is real!

As opposed to a ludicrous hoax stirred up by meat obsessed sycophants with an appetite for a colon cataclysm? It's real all right. I saw that fucker with my own two eyes.

This product is so meaty, there's no room for a bun!

A brilliant piece of word smithing it is not. Then again, this shit pile of refurbished animal by-product isn't exactly above a pun. I adore the fact that the copywriter chose to call this sandwich a "product." Why? Because the Double Down is an indescribable abomination of a barnyard mash-up, that’s why. Pigs, cows, chicken, and that unholy finger suckling, wet wipe-coddling condiment known only as "Colonel's Sauce."

As if the world needs more subversive sauces.

All that said, I never in my wildest sheet shitting nightmares thought I would get up close and personal with one of these bowel obstructionists.

That is until the day my buddy The Schneids rolled into the office proudly toting the grease drenched sack of excrement from the Colonel's very clutches.

What is it? We asked. How could you do it? Are you going to eat while sitting on the toilet?

The Schneids kicked back in his chair. He reached his paws into the saturated bag and unearthed his deep fried feast. Our eyes lit up. There was a fine mist of grease that filled the air like a thinly veiled morning fog. The smell alone was enough to loosen bowels, while the remnants of black heads began manifesting in our pores. The sandwich had a strong, brave scent. Like the underside of a saddle after a long day's ride exploring new land. As he took his first bite, his eyes glazed over and rolled into the back of his skull.



He was embarrassed by all the attention. He refused to give a thumbs up to the rubber necking gawkers.

We wanted a thorough report. Texture. Taste. Do you feel like taking a dump yet?

Nothing, The Schneids slowly gnawed on the Double Down with eyes that clearly admitted defeat.

“I don’t ever want to experience that again.”



My innards emitted sympathetic groans. This wasn't fun anymore.

6 comments:

First Lady of Mt.Holly said...

hey Schneids, isn't that against your religion to be eating such non-kosher filth? hope your bowels didn't explode. haaaaa

Casey Brewer said...

My buddy Paula:

"it's the only sandwich that makes you sad!"

Anna the Cain said...

I don't know who I felt worse for, the slaughtered animals forced to coalesce in a Frankensteined bastard "sandwich" that didn't even resemble a sandwich or poor Schneids who's face showed the horror and sadness of everyone who had ever lived. Grease bleeding from every pore and determination to not shit and cry all at once. He was like Jesus. Very sad Jesus.

what in the h? said...

i died for the sandwiches sin

what in the h? said...

my arteries hate me

americanmidwestsamurai said...

If Enron were a sandwich...