Burgin'
ready for an epic essay about the extraordinary phenomenon of gnomes, burgs, and death!? then read my essay for my ENG101 class.
I am feeling it right now. The salivation is so severe I am on the verge of choking. My focus is dwindling, the room is fading out of sight, and my thoughts are all locked on to one goal. I must quench my burgin’. Burgin’ is not simply wanting to grab a burger to fulfill one’s hunger. It is a stronger desire to fulfill a need than anything else. To define burgin’ is to define the experience as a whole. Burgin’ is the state of craving, consuming, or recovering from a burger. The adjective burgin’ is to be used as much as possible to portray the feeling throughout the whole process of wanting, getting, eating, and finishing a burger and to further the immersion in the phenomenon of burgin’. My experience with burgin’ has only been short-lived, but the existence of burgin’ has been there since the dawn of the burger. The second man decided to put a beef patty between two soft, fluffy, sesame-seed buns was when burgin’ spawned. Up until recently I was what is referred to as a burgin’ virgin. Burgin’ virgins are people who have had plenty of burgers in their past and perhaps have even experienced a certain degree of burgin’, but until it is realized for what it truly is, it is not a full-blown case of burgin’. A great majority of people are considered burgin’ virgins and many of them will remain that way unless there is a time of enlightenment. A renaissance of the burger (or burg as it is commonly known in the burgin’ community) if you will; a rebirth in the realization that the burg is much more than a consumer’s option for satisfying hunger.
Burgin’ is as intense and intimate a moment as two lovers intertwined and unimaginably more potent to the senses when satisfaction has been achieved. When you wake up in the morning clenching your stomach and stumbling to the kitchen in search of fulfillment, but find yourself at a dead end, this could be a sign; and when you go out to grab something from the supermarket, but still find yourself missing the big picture, burgin’ is most likely rearing its glorious head into view; but it will not really be an utterly all-out necessity until it is getting later in the day and burgs start dancing around your thoughts. You, my friend, are now officially burgin’. To be put bluntly and perfectly into context: You are burgin’ hard! If you are hanging out with your buddies at a fast food joint and decide you will grab a burger to tide you over until you get some Mexican food with your family later, you are most certainly not burgin’.
The cause of burgin’ is a mystery to many, but in my friends and mine’s discoveries in burgin’ has led us all to a revelation. The burgin’ gnomes are the root of the galactic-level urge. As I clench my abdomen in agony of longing, I curse the gnomes. I wish terrible fates upon them and at the same time I thank them for giving me the magic feeling. I personally have never seen these gnomes, but their presence is as hindering as it is rewarding once the gnomes are appeased. Some say the gnomes of Burg have extremely disproportional hands in relation to their bodies and their longer arms help them reach the stomach in order to massage and scratch it in the mysterious practice of “instantaneous-burg-desire” as transcribed in their ancient texts, lore, and philosophies. Burgin’ in and of itself is as much a belief and cult following as existentialism, reincarnation, cannibalism, and internet blogging. It has become a major staple in my existence and without it I would feel incomplete. This leads me into sharing my experience with the fabled Five Burger Death Challenge.
The Five Burger Death Challenge is the be-all, end-all test of the ultimate case of Burgin’. It is a testament of one’s faith in the burg and on a July midnight I put my spirit and stomach to the test. The rules of the Five Burger Death Challenge may be perceived as both archaic, simple, yet genius, and imaginative. The rules, as they stand:
- Order FIVE McDonalds double cheeseburgers
- Arrange them in a simplistic pyramid formation (four on the bottom and the fifth laying atop them)
- All must be consumed in a single sitting
- And most importantly, do not die (there have been casualties, so take precaution)
The Five Burger Death Challenge is not for the faint of heart and stomach, but in particular is most certainly not recommended for amateur burg digesters. My experience was about to begin once the burgin’ gnomes started caressing my insides and persuaded me I was ready. I called my good friend Cougar, “Hello?” he answered.
“Dude,” I said bluntly, “I’m burgin’.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m burgin’ hard. I think I’m ready for the Five Burger Death Challenge,” I stated nervously.
“No you’re not… are you?” He was not sure of my seriousness.
“Dude. I am,” I was prepared for the ultimate burgin’.
“O.K. I’m burgin’ too. Come get me and Kelsey,” he replied as he hung up.
I promptly headed over to his house and we began on our cruise to the nearest McDonalds. The hot Arizona night air was rushing through our rolled down windows; air-conditioning is a well-respected comfort to those without it. The drive was one of importance and my mind buzzed with anticipation and excitement. Could I really handle the 10 beef patties and numerous cheese slices I was about to ingest? I had faith in myself, but as we rolled up to the ordering microphone I began to falter in my ambitions. “What do you guys want?” I asked to help steady and collect my thoughts.
“I want a double cheeseburger and a minty mudslide,” Cougar responded.
“I’ll just have the chicken nugget combo,” Cougar’s girlfriend, Kelsey, chimed in.
“Um, we’ll have a double cheeseburger, a large minty mudslide, and a number ten with a coke,” my throat closed up, and I prepared myself for the command, “and I’d like to partake in the Five Burger Death Challenge.” I could not contain my laughter as I barked my order into the aged microphone.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Uh, I’d like five double cheeseburgers please,” laughter erupted again, “seriously. Oh! And I’d like no pickles, please. Thank you.”
The order was totaled and I pulled around the bend to collect the paraphernalia of our desire, and my demise. Our acquisition was successful, and we pulled around to the connected parking lot. Then and there it began. “The beginning of the end,” I thought.
I laid the 5 warm, wrapped burgs in the aforementioned pyramid formation and documented the event by taking pictures throughout the challenge. I smiled pleasantly and gave Cougar the nervous look of a man sentencing himself to utter demise. The first burger was juicy, warm, delicate on the tongue, sweet, and just what the gnomes were craving. It lasted no more than 45 seconds. “I can do this,” I thought out loud. The second was just as good and equally satisfying. Afterwards I triumphantly pumped my fist into the air as a founding father of the Five Burger Death Challenge had done before me. I was partaking in a tradition, one I hope my future children will participate in (when they’re ready, of course). I took a moment to breathe and looked down at the remaining burgs with a sense of power and dominance. After unwrapping the third death burg I held it under my nose and inhaled. I smelt success in the air. Something happened though. About halfway through I felt as if I had blown a tire on this freeway of victory. My brain functions slowed and my jaws became sluggish. I ignored this distraction and downed the third burg with little resistance. Shortly thereafter I had to take a break. I drank some soda, and looked down at the empty wrappers in the gravel. There was a small colony of ants settling themselves on my waxy trophies. I took the fourth burger from the brick ledge with disdain and unwrapped it with aggression. I slowly conquered the double cheeseburger and felt as if I was blacking out. People seemed more animated, more unnatural. Cougar and Kelsey were not people; they were creatures from another dimension there to watch me get defeated by the burgs. I was not about to let failure make itself imminent. The last burger glared at me. I fought back my urge to pass out and drank a bit more soda. The burg was cold, and my extremities were losing circulation. With no feeling in my fingers, I gripped the buns as I would clutch a parachute as I plummet to certain death. “I will make it out alive,” I proclaimed to the world as I began chewing. Each bite was a victory and each swallow was another meaty casualty being gunned down. Slowly, but steadily I consumed the last double cheeseburger and vowed to never be burgin’ again in my life. The gnomes must have been outraged by the flood of burgs, because what followed was a sensation of poisoning. I kept the burgs inside of my body and I prevailed. I completed the Five Burger Death challenge and survived.
It was a long while before I ate another burg, but it too tasted just as amazing as the first had once I gained the knowledge of what Burgin’ really is. Each time I bite into a burger I remember the time I conquered the odds and human capabilities of a 140 pound boy, who became a man that night and who learned the true value of “burgin’ hard.”