“Did you just turn the water into wine?” I asked the pimple -faced teen clerk at Krusty Burger.
“Um, no. It’s just dirty water. Haven’t had a plumber come in and look at the pipes in years. Would you like some?” he said.
I’ve tasted the dirty water in Boston, why not here? I did and went to the bathroom within seconds. Then came the ambulance and my stomach was soon pumped.
That was my first visit to Krusty Burger.
I couldn’t sue. No one can sue. Krusty Burger is the only restaurant on earth that requires every patron to sign a 1,000 page waiver in their own blood. I didn’t read the waiver, I just figured if I was going to die, I wanted to die happy. And that was by dining in Krusty Burger.
After my first experience, I went back six more times. Why? Maybe I felt guilty for the owner, maybe it was because the place was a Springfield, Oregon staple, or maybe I’m that optimistic person who thinks that any bad review of a restaurant will cause the restaurant to change for the better. Did it change? Nope. It refused to and to this day, still stays in business.
The place was unkempt, fully deserving its F food rating from the Board of Health and Safety. Rats and insects crawled across my feet into the kitchen where the cooks chopped and mashed them up to form patties.
How do I know? The kitchen is open.
2nd Visit: Customer service was nonexistent. I asked the teen how old he was. He became defensive and yelled to the back of the kitchen that I was with ICE. The entire staff vacated immediately.
3rd Visit: I ordered the Krusty Burger. From the look of it, I can only assume that the US strands of Mad Cow could be traced back to here. The burger was green and pink. I swear I could have heard and seen a couple of the employees in the back cough on it. I ate it anyway. You only live once.
I didn’t die when my bicuspids tasted the raw meat. Only the opposite. My body became more alive. I wanted more. The Krusty Burger tasted like candy. I instantly became addicted. When I asked for another and handed the teen my $5 bill, he said the burger was now $100. I argued that he couldn’t do that.
“Do you want it or not?” the teen said.
I ponied up the money. Shortly after the FEDs bombarded Krusty Burger and arrested all the employees for pushing drugs in their Krusty Burgers, I was out $100 and a delicious tainted burger.
4th Visit: I sat next to a family where the father constantly strangled his son. I know I probably should have done something, but I just let it happen.
“Should I call Child Protective Services?” I asked the teen. He said that it would be no good, plus it’s quite entertaining. I have to say, I agreed with him. Does that make me a bad person? Because it felt so good.
5th Visit: I ordered what seemed to be the entire menue: The Ribwich, the Clogger, Gravy Scrapems, the Krusty Burger 2, Meat-Flavored Sandwich, and Twisty Lard.
The Ribwich needed lettuce, which it did not come with. Small traces of baby back ribs were infused inside.
At 28, I had a heart attack after one bite of the deep fried Clogger. There are ten heart defibrillators on site. The bun and the meat had the consistency and texture of fake poop. I have no factual information on this either, but I’m pretty sure that there was excrement of many different mammals mashed into it. The Clogger tasted like pig’s head, which is as I can only describe as the ugly stepchild of brisket. It is an acquired taste and not a taste for me.
The ladder of the food I ordered tasted like everything else with only slight subtleties. Maybe the rat poison formula was a bit altered and food coloring was added to mask it.
6th Visit: Krusty Burger was jammed. It was Yom Kippur, the Jewish High Holiday, and a service was going on. Krusty, himself, was leading it. Honestly, I don’t know what sect of Judaism he is a part of, or if he even considers himself a practicing Jewish person at all, because from what I’ve seen on the menu, it will never be Kosher.
“Eh, you atone for all the bull you did from the previous year and then you get right back on the horse. Now, are you going to buy something or am I going to have to kick you out?” Krusty said to me with a hideous yet addicting laugh.
I wanted something healthy. I saw Yogurt and Salad on the menu, but was told by the teen that they were never served.
“They were only put on the menu to get the Michelle Obama healthy crowd. And guess what, it worked,” Krusty said as he finished his statement off with that unnerving laugh.
“Now get out and never come back,” he yelled.
I’m going to miss that place.
ATMOSPHERE: An out of shape dilapidated fast food restaurant. Mischievous out-of-control kids run rampant while their parents turn a blind eye.
SERVICE: Nonexistent. If you don’t have any many, then get the heck out.
SOUND LEVEL: Unnerving. You constantly hear the sounds of children being choked.
RECOMMENDED: The Yogurt and Salad (yet it not served)
DRINKS AND WINE: I’m sure there is a bootleggin ring going on somewhere beyond the counter. If you pony up the right amount, you just might get your swerve on.
PRICES: Range from $5 – Market (my drug infused Krusty Burger cost $100)
WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: No