Fast Eddies
Pictures taken September 7, 2004

If you happen to have seen the 'documentary' Supersize Me then I'm sure you know how gross fast food can be. Fast Eddies takes this grossness to new depths, offering fat-ass consumers the chance to eat a gigantic cup of Crazyfries soaked with gravy (questionable) and cheese. You can get big huge milkshakes, large quantities of bottom dollar burgers and all kinds of garbage that will ensure stomach cramps and insta-heart attacks in the hours following consumption. You can get pickle fries - a bag of fries coated in extremely sickening pickle dust...stuff. You can buy death, basically.

So obviously me, Chad, Jen and Jack went looking for this delicious death, even as far as Cambridge - which is where the closest Fast Eddies is located. I used to live in Cambridge, so I've built up an immunity of sorts to the vile workings of this low-grade food. I know the inner essence of its evil. But Jack and Chad, inspired by the burger quest in Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle, made it a summer mission to locate and devour this poison. So we went.

The lair of the beast. Chad looks excited to finally be given the
opportunity to abuse his body beyond nature's limits. My car
looks super cool and neon for some reason...I'm not complainin.
Maybe having all that food on its hood somehow suped it up.

It may look okay now, but trust me: DEATH!

Chad, Jen and Jack may look okay now, but after they ate all these
burgers and Crazyfries, they died. Instantly. And then the Ford
Tempo brought them back to life with all of its new-found neon glory.

Resurrected Jack even went so far as to bring the accursed burgers
back to Waterloo. From what I can tell, he is either enraptured by
the flavour or trying not to throw up as he crams the last one into
his mouth. Gavin is inconsiderately ignoring his plight.

Let me just tell you that we all felt fucking terrible for the rest of the night after we ate that 'feast.' This is a fairly predictably consequence. And yet somehow, inexplicably, we keep going back. Maybe we crave the sense of adventure, the thrill of pushing our belabored hearts to their limit as we shovel fistfuls of rotten fries down our gullets. Maybe Fast Eddies puts a little bit of cocaine in each burger. Maybe we're just masochistic.

Fast Eddies made me sick. It always does. But somehow, that tacky red and yellow neon sign is constantly calling me back.