Burger Challenge – The Harvard Lampoon

The Grass is Greener #

| Issue Editor: CHS '17 | Art Editor: AEV '18

Burger Challenge

  NSG '20 , Art: ARC '18


Here it comes. 2 buns, 6 pounds of beef, a whole bottle’s worth of barbecue sauce and no
vegetables. They say third time’s the charm, which means one more stroke and I’m dead. But if my last 16 attempts to complete the Lard Barn Burgernator Challenge didn’t kill me, why should
this one?

The paramedic Lard Barn hired after my second stroke explains that’s not how it works. “You
can only be revived from so many clinical deaths,” he pleads. It’s a pretty reasonable point.
Unfortunately for him, the brain damage from the first stroke destroyed my ability to reason.

The 10-minute countdown begins. I take my first bite. My body feels like it’s on fire, but that’s
just my normal reaction to Lard Barn’s signature “Fire Sauce”. I take my second bite. I think my
brain just exploded, which is my normal reaction to having a stroke.

I try to stay positive. Every bite is one step closer to a place on the Burgernator Wall of Fame.
Not that I’m not doing it for the fame. At this point, my motivation is way more psychologically
complex.

After 2 minutes, my speech starts to slur, making it increasingly difficult to slam my fist down
and yell “Who’s the man?” after each bite. By the halfway mark, the entire right side of my body
has become numb, which really takes the edge off the brain explosions.

With only 3 minutes left, half the burger unfinished and the world fading into darkness, I finally
decide to throw in the towel I use as a napkin, thinking that if I’m going to die, I might as well do it in style, with my face covered in various kinds of juices.

Eventually, the manager hits the Lard Gong to signal time’s up. The paramedic comes over to
my table. He checks for a pulse. “Time of death: 7:39pm,” he declares, which is a fun bit Lard
Barn does whenever someone fails the Burgernator challenge. Then he checks my pulse for
real. “Time of death: 7:40pm.”

As my spirit leaves my body, I realize that true happiness isn’t getting your photo on some wall
because you ate a very large burger in a short amount of time. No. True happiness is receiving
a free t-shirt because you were able to eat two of them.