First off, Mr. Mad Scientist, thank you for calling off the dogs and allowing me into your top-secret foodporn lair. But was the billy club to the head, chloroform-laced burlap sack, and iron maiden full of tranquilizer darts really necessary?
Oh, of course it was! After all, nobody needs know where I do my work. They only must know that the work is done, and that it is oh-so-delicious and oh-so-shareable.
Well, that is certainly is. Though it is a little jarring to receive these constant, sometimes several-times-a-minute reminders that, no matter how many lunges and crunches and burpees and hot yoga we do, we are all so, so incredibly fat.
Good science is rarely comfortable, my fine, drugged-out friend.
Indeed. So, what exactly do you do?
Simple. I take everyday foods that everybody loves, and then mash them together in various ways — not all of which involve surgical attachment, but not all of which don’t — until I stumble upon the magical formula that turns social media into a mountain of Homer-drool pics and tears-of-joy emojis.
Yeah, those grotesque, insane, implausible foods I see right next to regular old all-bacon-everything dishes. Those are yours?!
All of them. I then sell the recipes to restaurants and bloggers desperate for viral fame, and use the funds to make even more crazy meals. It’s ingenuous!
It’s crazy is what it is! These monsters are to foodporn what surgically enhanced 18-inch cocks and 48LLL’s are to real porn. How can you justify this?
Science, that’s how! This is all part of my grandest experiment yet. See I’ve always wanted to know just much weight the Earth could handle before its crust and mantle just give way, and we all become one with the core. By bloating our bellies with 15,000 calorie eats five, six, or more times a day, eventually we’ll break through and I’ll have my answer!
… I’m … guessing a whole lot more than a few billion people with engorged guts would be required for that. It’s a planet, not a giant floating Faberge egg.
How do you know that? Do you science?
Not really, no. But I know the planet’s not a damned egg.
Did you inspect it before coming to that conclusion?
Erm … no?
Then let us who do science, figure out how best to collapse the egg-earth under a weight of cellulite then, OK?
…sure? You know what, never mind. I’d like to see some of your favorite creations, so my readers can stare at the pics and realize what they so desperately nommed over is an unholy work of a crazy man with a God complex.
No, no, that guy didn’t make anything. I made them all!
And, I rest my case. OK, what’s first?
What … what is that?
It’s macaroni and cheese, inside a cheeseburger. A macaroni and cheeseburger!
Yeah, and everything’s falling out of it!
Yes, when you dump an entire pot of mac over a slider, that tends to happen. But doesn’t it look DELECTABLE?
It looks like a mushroom cloud!
Yes, yes! Now you get it. THIS … is like a nuclear explosion of flavor … and your mouth is Hiroshima and your stomach is Nagasaki!
That is terrible. Next!
Again with the burgers? What is this? WHY is this?
I saw a Russian Nesting Doll and got inspired. After that, the 700 burger patties and oversized buns just came to me!
What’s with the cheese line dripping from the top burger? It looks like the drool of a Xenomorph.
Apropos, don’t you think? What do Xenomorphs do? They explode through your chest. And once you’ve eaten this burger, that’s exactly what will happen! Now do you see why I science so?
Now come on — you don’t really think anyone would eat that thing, would you? Not without 20 of their buddies to help them, anyway.
Clearly, you don’t know people like I do, little man. Maybe they won’t PLAN to eat it all, but soon their gluttony will kick in. And eat it all they will. Look out, super-hot ball of metal holding Earth together, here we come!
… we’re not done yet, are we?
Nope, of course not. Now what the shit is this?
Isn’t it obvious? It’s a burger, stuffed with another burger, with another burger inside the top burger bun, and another burger inside the bottom burger bun. I’m shocked you even had to ask.
I regret I did. Why, though? Why not just serve four burgers?
Because nobody CARES about four burgers! Ever seen someone Instagram four Whoppers? No likes, no hearts, no shares, nothing! Even their mothers regret birthing them! But a burger in a burger sandwiched between two burgers? The combined drool would create a veritable Waterworld! Especially if — oh me, my brain just always goes and goes! — especially if we DEEP-FRY the whole thing. And wrap it in bacon! Who could possibly resist??
OK, I get it! Your burgers are wackaloon. What else you got?
Tell me that isn’t chicken with sprinkles.
I can’t tell you that, it would be a lie. And lying’s bad.
So it’s chicken with sprinkles then.
You sound surprised.
Of course I am, that’s disgusting! It looks like someone dropped a cake in the sandbox. And the baked version looks like someone dropped a cake in a lava pit.
Nonsense! The lava would melt both the cake and you long before you could take that picture.
Does this even qualify as “food porn”? That’s usually for food that looks incredible, but this? This just looks SAD.
Like you’ve never seen a sad pornstar.
…fair ’nuff. What’s next?
But come on! Fried drumsticks inside the whole of a frosted donut? That’s like if you had stuck a, I dunno, a lizard’s head on an octopus’s body and called it science!
Oh, that’s the mad animal scientist down the road, he did that last week. Fascinating, but not nearly as mouth-watering.
Neither’s this! What made you even think of fusing these two together?
Easy! Donuts are fried, are they not? And those drumsticks are fried too! So to me, it’s like an odd couple that are also shockingly similar, and I’m fascinated to see how they get along. It’s like The Birdcage, where they’re both gay but only one is Nathan Lane. The juxtaposition made for a good movie, and it’ll make for a good snack too!
Like Hell it will. I oughta turn you in!
At least wait until you see what else I have. Your growling stomach might just make you change your mind.
I can safely say this has not. Calling the cops now!
Oh, I forgot to mention, there’s no cell service here. And when you were out cold, I stole your phone’s batteries, they’re powering my generator as we speak. Also, I threw your phone into acid.
Somehow, not shocked. But come on, this is so much food it’s sickening. A 20-pound burger between two calzones. You could feed a developing country on that one thing alone!
I suppose I could. But why, though? What would that prove?
That you’re actually a decent human being and not some crazed foodporn monster?
Didn’t I already tell you lying’s bad? Look, I’m here for science! Feeding tons of people with this food of mine won’t help my science at all, much less my goal of imploding the Earth under the fat of her people. It’s like how people who lay down on beds of nails are fine, but if they step on one nail, then the pain, oh the pain!
Are you seriously comparing feeding the hungry to an optical illusion?
Why wouldn’t I? They’re the same thing! Feeding countless people with my food is like a bed of nails — nice, pleasant even, but uneventful. Each person eating their OWN gargantuan calzone-burger is like each one stepping on one nail. It’ll hurt, as collapsing into our own planetary core might, but important scientific points were proven.
That the same thought process that went into this pizza cake?
Yes! See, you’re catching on, you get it! Maybe you can be my apprentice.
I’d rather deepthroat the Hiroshima Mac Bomb burger.
Good, good, then you’ll be part of my science either way! Also, this is a great way to save the trees, and Earth, if you want to look at it that way.
Why, what? Huh? Trees?
That’s five or six pizzas, right? Well, if you ordered five or six pizzas so you could watch football or UFC or whatever while crying alone in your dingy, loveless apartment, that would be five or six pizza boxes just taking up clutter AND being dead! If we all made and ate pizza cakes, we wouldn’t have to cut down so many trees to create so many boxes that either wind up on our floor or in our landfills. See? It works on this level, and then on that level!
…don’t you want to collapse the Earth to its core? Why suddenly care about trees?
I mean, no.
What? How is this not the most decadent drool-maker you’ve ever laid eyes on? How could you not want ten of them right now?
Because I would DIE? Even one of those would make me sick. What IS this? Ice cream, chocolate sauce, peanut butter cups, cookies, cake pieces, MORE ice cream — no way could anybody eat that without regretting it.
Only one way to find out, and I think a lot of people will be willing to help me find out.
Sadly, you’re probably right. But they won’t last. A quarter of the way through the first one, most people will walk away, say they’re done, and move on. No way can you scarf a bunch of those, or even one whole one, down! Unless your plan is to force-feed this to them, Se7en-style?
No, that’s absurd! More like Matilda. And speaking of scrumptious cakes!
I … what??
Now come now, you don’t like this? It’s the king of cakes! There’s a crown and everything.
Yes, I see that, but I also see pure insanity. How many hazelnut balls does one cake NEED? And eating this thing? I wouldn’t even know where to begin!
Simple: start at the top, work your way down, and never ever stop.
That’s not helpful. And neither are you! This is why we’re fatter than ever, because people like you create this crap and seduce us into eating it. All for some literal planet-destroying experiment?
Of course! Look, it might not happen. It probably won’t, Earth’s pretty sturdy even after all these billions of years. But, what if I CAN? It would prove the ultimate point about our gluttonous, piggish lifestyle, and perhaps provide us with a valuable lesson for the future?
…a future we won’t have because the EARTH HAS COLLAPSED.
Hey, if it comes to that, then we’re clearly an unteachable species. But if our collective blubber, say, causes a sinkhole or ten, then the Earth survives AND we learn a lesson. That’s science, my friend! Temper your expectations, and you can get results every time!
Fat-induced sinkholes are you tempering expectations? You know what, enough of this crap. You got one more chance to convince me you’re not criminally, dangerously insane. What you got?