Tuesday, March 1, 2011

"the Magic of White Castle" (old myspace blogs pt 3)

at one point, this was the highlight of my writing 'career'... a true story about a late night white castle visit.


Feb 23, 2006
the magic of white castle

Current mood:accomplished
it was late on a sunday night. the frat boys were out, drunk and in a tizzy. there was a bum asking for cigarettes. three little munchkin ladies flipped grease soaked onions on a burner with a spatula and waddled around yelling into microphones about orders.

my friend used the ladies restroom. i scanned the room for the cop parked outside. must be undercover. the entire restaraunt was trashed, little boxes, half finished soft drinks, ketchup stained napkins, and cold french fries belied a huge battle.

finally one of the munchkin ladies yelled out a number "104!" and the frat boy chorus all responded in unison. "104! BINGO!"

some guy woke up in a booth and stumbled up to grab a sack full of future diarreah and stomach cramps.

i looked down at my ticket. it was number 117.

we finally realized that leaning on the counter wasn't going to impress or speed up the munchkins. so we sat down and scanned the room some more.

as we talked about our show, i leered at someone elses leftover french fries. should i eat them? do they have the aids? they do look tasty, (except that burnt one) life is filled with endless possibilities. i WAS hungry, after all. a little voice told me "dont do it" so i didn't.

i looked up at my friend and as he talked about the girl of the day, it hit me. he was the number before me. i had parked my truck first, but somehow he slipped in line at the counter before me. the BASTARD. how could i have let this happen? wasn't it apparent that i was more starved than he? what kind of friend would do that?

i lost my train of thought momentarily as the munchkins handed out a few more orders. closer... getting warmer.. my precious.

the tall hippy hadn't wavered from the soda machine since we'd been there. he had a party to go to, he said. by the looks of his 5 large drinks, i think he was telling the truth.

slowly but surely, the numbers crept up. the munchkins appeared frazzled. they really do hate their jobs, i'm guessing. all that walking around you'd think they'd be really skinny, until you realize they hover over some of the best in greasy assed cuisine known to man.

i got up and went to the bathroom. it was dirty. there was pee on the seat. i pulled out my wattenhofer and aimed for the water. ah, much better. i couldn't bring myself to touch the sink, so i didn't wash my hands.

i sat back down at the table and wondered who left this blizzard of trash. a homeless lady came in and she looked kind of hot. i kept my eye contact with her from the moment she entered the door. could she be the one? she was still looking at me and walked right past. my heart started racing. "i like your hair," she said. "thank you, homeless lady" i replied.

"113!" i heard the munchkin yell. it was on. i wanted a cigarette, but the bum who asked for one was still asking people for one. i thumbed the phone in my pocket nervously as my stomach let out a loud noise. "meeeeeeeeeeerrrrryoooooooooop" it said.

we both stood up and engaged the hippy. he was a tall man, in a flannel coat, with a winter cap. his hair was pulled back into a pony tail. i thought i smelled patchouli.

"hate to love it," i think he might have said, as we all three were transfixed by the munchkins endless dance. if i had some cameras i'd put them in that white castle, i thought. i'd time lapse that shit and make a mad, mad awesome documentary. it would be keen. people would be calling from the white house about it's brilliance.

the hippy said something about getting a drink carrier. his food was up shortly. was this how it was going to end? i looked and noticed there were no more medium lids. my friend was in trouble.

"115!" the hippy put his drinks in a carrier and grabbed his two giant sacks of drunkfood in his opposite hand. i told you he was tall.

now it was gametime. we hovered in anticipation as our mouths watered. with nothing left to talk about, we tried to remember how many sliders were in a crave case. he said 60. i said that couldnt' be right. so, in an effort to converse with a munchkin, my friend said "how many in a crave case?" she looked at him with great disdain, tilted her mouth to the side a little and said "30" before dropping some fries in the batter.

then, we saw the boxes getting folded. our orders were totally up next. i leaned on my tip toes for a better look. the fry munchkin was just spreading the sea of onions around with her munchkin tool, teasing me. i imagined her in a white castle calendar, wearing nothing but some little toasted buns on her privates, looking at me longingly, like i did at the food.

then, the bell rang. our numbers came up, and i couldn't hold in my excitement any more. i grabbed my sack and followed my friend out the door. jumped in my truck, and stabbed myself in the face with a fried mozzarella sword. it was pure ecstasy.

we started up our automobiles as i kept stuffing my pie hole with delicious greasy breaded cheese. we drove off into the night, two lost souls driving to some unknown destination, riding high off the magic of white castle.

pretty soon i had finished most of the sticks and got down to my jalapeno sliders when i realized, we were lost. i was supposed to be leading this caravan and had to call him on my cell to figure out where we were. i laughed, because it didn't matter. i had five more sliders and they weren't going anywhere, except my mouth.

we did some turning and more driving, figuring out where the hell we were. but we did it with smile on our faces and some onions too.

by the time i got to my destination, i realized that i had reached the bottom of the bag. it was a sad moment. but my mouth was burning and my bowels were reacting, and i knew that i had won my battle against the munchkins.

the next morning i had to poo. we were out of toilet paper. the smell of onions was unbearable. i went twice before we got a refill. slept for 5 hours woke up and pooed again. then pooed again. then later, again. it was pooing bliss. i think i shat out my brains.

but i can now say that i'm done with white castle for ever. she is a harsh mistress, and even though i love her, i had to break it off.

to this day i have juicy farts, and when i do, i think of her.

the end, mang.

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