Yuck. As I am sitting here digesting I can’t stop thinking about how bad that waste meat burger was. I will reiterate: it was as if Dave Thomas himself knocked me to the ground, pinning me to the floor with his knees on my chest, his sweltering white ass mere inches from my lips. His fleshy fingers pull his butt cheeks apart and I get a head-on view of his winking cinnamon mini-donut. He moans and shudders as the flood gates open, and I scream a wordless scream as two overripe pecan logs roll off the factory floor and out the back door. Man that was a bad burger.