This is a tale of the past, but I’m sure the KFC Zinger Stacker will be back, so take this as a cautionary tale.
It had been a while since I got together with a friend, just to kick back and fully consume an array of drinks and games. As an adult, it’s rare to get these times of worry free pleasure, and it almost feels like being a child again, even when your friend now has their own personal space. And a career. And a car. And a cat. Plus everything else. Oh, how time flies!
Anyway, before getting down to our day of guilt-free pleasure, food was required to give us the energy to bash buttons and pour whisky, it’s what it’s for after all. KFC was an obvious choice, it always is, and we were both caught by the new fangled KFC Zinger Stacker. It’s the well loved Zinger burger, but with an extra topping of chicken to gouge on! Stuff in some jalapeño sauce, and you have one fiery treat. Two please!
So, we made our way home, burgers stuffed in a bag between my legs, and as soon as we made it into the house, we were chowing down on them like crazed animals. After some light cat petting. Of course.
The burger is a real mouthful, and the two slabs of meat often slid out of the bun they were encased within. There is a light punch of spice, not too much to set your throat alight, but enough to go ‘oh, yeah, that was a little spicy, I guess!’ We both can attest to this, and my friend is a hardened spice consumer, whereas I am quite the opposite, finding anything above a korma a little too hot. We both felt a bit of a kick, but that’s about it.
We spent the rest of the day with glazed expressions, content with our meal, and ready to shoot up some zombies on The House of the Dead II. There was nothing to complain about, it was a meal that filled and satisfied without being too much of a burden on the mind. Too bad we’d be complaining, too good we wouldn’t be able to shut up about it. Like the spices, it’s good enough.
It hit me first. An intense wave of stomach ache suddenly awoke within myself, and I was rapidly rubbing my tummy in hope that it would rub away the pain. but it was relentlessly jabbing my insides, and the toilet was calling. At that point, the toilet was the God I must worship, and I did as I crawled up the stairs clutching my gut. Bestow me with your bottomless pit, oh lord of the toilets!
This was the real zinger of the meal. It burned, it stung like hell, and it just wouldn’t stop. The unravelling toilet paper was no longer unravelling, and the zinger hadn’t finished with me yet. It was at this point that I heard a desperate banging on the door. One toilet, no toilet roll, two fiery guts ready to unload. It was like a sick twisted fantasy that only the crudest and rudest of comics would come up with.
We somehow made it thanks to an emergency roll hidden in a drawer an arms reach away, and a certain level of endurance between the two of us. It lasted through the night, and by the morning we were both drained of all fluids, burning from the rear. Burning oh so hard.
And before I left, I saw the paper KFC food bag by the bin. I stared at in disadain, it was all I could do. It was all anyone could do.
Now I’m not sure if this is a regular occurrence with the KFC Zinger Stacker, or a cook based problem, but be warned that if the KFC Zinger Stacker ever returns to your nearby KFC restaurant, which it may very well do, make sure you aren’t too far from the holy crapper.
It may save your pants.