Greasy Burgers and Fried Brain Cells | | The Online Writing Community
Greasy Burgers and Fried Brain Cells

Greasy Burgers and Fried Brain Cells

A Story by Corey Zupka

An account of teen freedom and competitive eating glory!


Early Planning

Smack! One of the Krystal Hamburger boxes I tossed earlier slammed against my window, an angry pedestrian in traffic felt the need to inform my friend Louis and I that we were littering, at least this is what I got from the excessive yelling and swearing from the man. See, Louis had learned of the annual Kyrstals hamburger eating contest some weeks prior, we knew we had to go, if not for competitive eating glory, defiantly for free burgers and  an epic road trip. The contest was going to take place in Perry, Georgia, some 6 hours from our homes in Florida, we would need the thumbs up from our parents if we were going to do this as a team. Consulting our overprotective parental units, diligently jotting down every detail of the contest, we brief them in horror of the dreaded answer, No! To our surprise, though, they had agreed, and my mother calls Louis's household to plan our trip in detail. 

As for Louis and myself, we spent countless hours in the coming weeks at our local Krystal burger joint pounding down numbers of the tiny, thin, squared beef burgers. Seeing as the contest was eighteen and older, I was the support element of our operation, as I was only seventeen.

The day had come. I wasn't calling my boss at the haunted house to inform him of my two-day absence and had not a care in the world. My mothers Jetta was fueled and ready for the journey. We had a bag of fine hydroponically grown weed, one backpack each, numerous assortments of metal to rage with, and our adventurous hearts to claim hamburger eating glory. We were two best friends experiencing the open road one hit at a time. 

Days earlier we had unknowingly purchased a crack pipe, the homeless mans most prized possession. Although it was the sleaziest of hash pipes, it was small in size and perfect to conceal in a mothers glove compartment from any suspecting highway cops, hot on the trail of our hamburger endeavor. We had 6 hours of open road till we reached Perry. Why not spark up a bowl before departure? I was leaned back in the leather seats of the Jetta with the music cranked and windows down. With the first toke of freedom, we were off. 

Day 1

Our first stop was at a grocery store in " Gator Country", the college city of Gainesville that bleeds orange and blue for their beloved school. Still half-baked and with the inescapable effects of THC in the system, the "munchies" were grasping hold of us. What better way than to indulge ourselves then with freshly made sub sandwiches and cold club sodas to satisfy our urge?  We took a few moments to soak in the hussy, college babes that surrounded our presence from every way, and sat on a curb outside from the store, enjoying our sandwiches. No time to stay though; we had road to travel, brain cells to fry, and filthy burgers to consume. We loaded up and pushed out, ready to settle down in Perry and explore our surroundings. 

We hit Perry about mid evening. With no hotel reservations we had to scour the small town for an open hotel, keeping our wits about us. Unfortunately for the two of us this area of Perry was a mere ghetto, a safe haven for drug dealers, thieves and relentless murders. After much failed success at hotels, we found a quite nice Holiday Inn with a bottom floor smoking room. Perfect! Louis and I cleaned up a little, devised a plan for the night, loaded up our pipes and took in the smooth smoke, ready for a night at the Perry Fair Grounds.

The Town was packed with people attending the fair, and we were both stoned out of our minds, maneuvering our way through the dense crowd, searching for crucial rides to whip us around at intense speeds and high altitude. Then, we came across the Excalibur of human torture, The Gravitron! In the midst of our dumbfounded, baked state, I am surprised we did not bow down at the gate of this treasure. Instead we hopped in line to experience this fast spinning terror. An Asian woman, and her young daughter in front of us, turned to ask me what exactly the image of my shirt was depicting. I was wearing a shirt by the Florida based grind band, " Assuck", in which their was a girl hanging from a building. I simply replied by saying, " I think she's hanging there", letting out a small chuckle. 

At last, the gates had been opened, our tickets were exchanged and we were making our way into the central vortex of The Gravitron, ready for it to ravage our helpless bodies. We laid down on the slanted walls and braced ourselves for the coming storm. Two best friends being thrown into a mechanical, spinning room as if we were being flushed down Goliath's toilet. Our bodies lifted off the ground, dangling upside-down with only friction to keep us bound to the wall. To a mind baked from the riches of the cannabis plant, we were astonished.


With our minds blown and stomachs screaming at us to feed them, we set out to recon the contest site, and then scurried to my mothers Jetta for the premier in chicken wing eating establishments, Hooters. We drooled the whole way in hopes of devouring a basket of hot wings and curly fries. 

Once at Hooters, we were greeted by a fine looking waitress with orange booty shorts and white tank top, the usual get up for a Hooters girl. We had been told at least 5 times to seat ourselves, but our prolonged marijuana stupor still had our minds and mobility at its grasp. And so we sat at the front desk marveling Hooters memorabilia and nodding our heads as if we actually acknowledged their request; finally we sat ourselves, realizing we had been told numerous times to sit down. 

Now we are dumb, but not exactly stupid. We always smoked up at the hotel, alleviating the hassle of getting pulled over by the Georgia coppers, and being whisked away to a jail cell for possession. So we bolted to the hotel after our feast to enlighten ourselves. 

As you can imagine fatigue was taking a toll on us and Louis's chances were at stake if he didn't sleep before his big day. The fairgrounds would be packed for the contest, and the Krystals title belt awaited my friend, for this would be a record smashing and complete upheaval in the competitive eating world.

Day 2

Complete failure! Louis ate his burgers as if he was having a quaint meal with some fellow associates, over a  candle lit table and glass of wine. The other opponents were scarfing burgers down like it had been liquified and fed to them through a feeding tube! I can't say I was upset, I was lit and enjoying a snow cone on the side lines, listening to the loud roaring fans of the 2006 Krystal Eat Off. I cheered Louis on though, watching him throw away months of training sporting his contest t-shirt, at least he got a t-shirt out of it though. That says something right? Even if he was the laughing stock at the fairgrounds that day, he lost in style. Nothing says loser more than an XXL Krystal t-shirt and a plate full of square burgers in front of you. Its cool, though, we laughed it off with another ride on The Gravitron to say farewell to the Perry local fair. 

Back at the hotel we were getting bored, our freedom was becoming a complete bust now, and we needed something to do!  Now most stoners will tell you that you can only be so high, and I dont know if it was the Georgia air, or the taste of freedom, but I was at this point completely fried - better yet, deep fried. We struck rubber to pavement looking for the nearest exit with some actual civilization, in search of any cinematic establishment, to our surprise we found one, not too far from Perry. We saw Jackass two, a disgusting film where modern day dare devils destroy their bodies and reputations via a video camera and extreme, utter boredom. When the movie ended we set out in search of the Jetta so we could head back to Perry, but instead we toured the parking lot since we completely forgot about we had parked. About an hour later we found our ride and left the mall.

On the ride back to the hotel we decided to stop at a local corner store to buy some joint papers, and maybe spice up our smoking experience. Louis was never one to disappoint, and disappointment he did not deliver. Blueberry joint papers was his new spice for our bud. Neither one of us had much experience rolling a joint, and hydroponic weed was not the best for breaking up. We needed dirt weed - the grim, starch, seed infested weed - to roll a proper joint. We realized this decision was an epic fail. It just didnt smoke right, and our weed can not go to waste! Taking the proper precautions of weed conservation, we mash the internal remnants of the joint in our bowls and chiefed away. Our grand slam idea was soon to take effect. Louis now thought the best course of action to dispose and make good use of a pack of blue berry joint papers would be to heat them in the microwave, filling our hotel room with the sweet aroma of freshly baked, blueberry pie. 

This aroma overcame our taste buds and sent us into a frenzy. We had to service our urges, and their isn't a better place on this earth than IHOP. Open 24 hours, and always willing to serve all you can eat pancakes, we could not tell ourselves no! Louis and I ordered a plate each of the blueberry pancakes and soaked them in syrup, blueberry syrup at that. The coffee, for the two of us not being coffee drinkers, was quite possibly the most elegant in taste. This was the icing on the cake for our weekend. We knew we had to get adequate sleep for our drive home, and bedded down a final time, for in the morning our freedom would end under the clutches of parental overwatch. 


We woke up early to catch the road at sunrise, ready for a relaxing drive of deafening heavy metal. The two of us  cashed our bowls and disposed of the evidence, enjoying the last of our chronically fun-filled weekend. Hours later we arrived home with smiling faces, mainly in the astonishment that Louis and I actually maneuvered our way state to state with out a scratch in the Jetta or a call from the police. All in all, our weekend was a success. Memories were made that the two of us will never forget, and brain cells lost that we will never recover. 

© 2010 Corey Zupka

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe

Advertise Here
Want to advertise here? Get started for as little as $5


Added on April 21, 2010
Last Updated on April 22, 2010
Tags: Awesome, Claude Marks, Weed, Drugs, Teens, Fun, Road Trip


Corey Zupka
Corey Zupka

Walland, TN

I need to get to writing! more..

Thoughts? Thoughts?

A Story by Corey Zupka

Fake Fake

A Poem by Corey Zupka