Now, I like white castle. Not an admission I would make to a lot of people, but I can eat those fuckers. Ten sack? cakewalk. I have, most of the time, chosen to avoid the “plain” burgers because without the cheese to latch onto the walls of my intestines, the little bastards go through at mach 7. So cheeseburgers it is, and while I only eat the fuckers once in a great while, maybe twice a year, I do enjoy the diversion.

One of my favorite white castle memories, was coming down off a three day drunk after a spectacularly painful breakup. I stayed in that bottle a longass time, before I crawled out, and when I did, I was hungry.

At three AM, the only choices you have are home cooking, and White Castle. Oh, sure, you can hit a convenience store and nuke a burrito, or sling one of the petrified hotdogs on the electric griller thingy, but there’s nothing like having ten small, soft bunned cheeseburgers with fresh grilled onions shoved at you out of a drive up window. So my roomie and i, (he being the designated driver) stopped at White Castle and got two ten packs, a couple of shakes, some fries, and a container each of clam strips. (*the clam strips are for the trip home) We sit and eat in front of the TV, a pile of empties accumulating on the floor between us.

Next morning, whcih happened to be a saturday, we dragged ourselves out of bed in time to catch MST3k, and eat whatever hash I managed to sling saturdays, my cooking utensils consisting mostly of a wok and a waffle iron.

About ten seconds into Dr Clayton Forrester’s opening monologue, I got the signal: SHIT BEGINNING IN FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO… and off I ran. I was thankful that I had only managed to slip into a housecoat over my drawers, and I barely made the seat.

The combination of the Crown I’d been drinking and the cheese sliders was a perfect recipe for colon cleansing. I shat things I don’t think were, strictly speaking, food. Brake pads? how’d those get in there? but the most interesting part was that it all formed a continuous, ropey string. “Dude”, I said to the roomie “cjeck this out” we were used to grossing one another out, so he came running.. “it looks just like a funnelcake!”

Now, as anyone who has eaten white castle knows, the passage through the human digestive systemchanges only the color and the texture of White castles, the aroma remains literally unchanged. The combination of nasty smell and ropey funnelcake appearance pushed my already queasy (he’d been drinking with me) roomie over the edge, and he sprayed most of his breakfast all over me, the toilet, the bathroom floor, the plastic shower curtain, and a plastic statue of Elvis that I have still.

I’m sometimes surprised he still talks to me.