Deciding to eat at (Name Redacted) was one of the worst recent life decisions I have made. I love (and grew up around) Yellow Springs, so I thought stopping by the (Name Redacted) while in town for a visit would be a good idea. I have never been more wrong in my life, and that’s including the time I thought “25” in a school zone meant the number of kids you were supposed to aim for with your car. If I could go back and change any three moments in my life, one of them would be making the decision to eat here. It literally ruined the rest of my day, much as would a diagnosis of cervical cancer. For one, the service was absolutely atrocious. From the time I sat down, it took 40-45 minutes to get food that ended up being a repulsive presentation of slop that would be too cruel and unusual to serve to Hitler. To make matters worse, I was starving, so I was really looking forward to a tasty meal. I would have even settled for some road kill scraped up from Route 68, provided it was at least microwaved first. This meal did not even meet those standards. I made the fatal mistake of ordering a hamburger. After waiting for 45 minutes and practically climbing the walls, they brought “the hamburger.” I will never forget that hamburger as long as I live, much in the same way a person doesn’t forget contracting genital herpes. Let me also interject here that this restaurant is quite stingy; the only side that comes with the sandwiches is some chips in a bag they probably got from the Speedway next door. Is it too much to ask to get some god-damned fries to go with your shit sandwich? I guess so, because you have to pay extra.
But I (understandably) digress. I took one bite of this hamburger and immediately wanted to slit my wrists and end my own life just to erase this one moment. It was literally the worst piece of meat I have ever had in my entire life (and trust me, I’ve been around). The best way I can describe it is hate, terrorism, old person shit, and Crohn’s disease mixed together and flattened by someone’s foul hands into a gray, tasteless, dried up mass of putrid unknown animal genitalia. The menu claims that the burgers are made with all-Angus beef, but unless “Angus” is the term for a cow’s asshole, I doubt the truth of this statement. I forced myself to eat a few bites (out of pure starvation and desperation) and then promptly wished I were dead. Sitting on a stove for the rest of eternity in the fiery depths of hell would have been preferable. Additionally, the bun was harder than Michael Jackson at a kindergarten birthday party. Don’t worry though; the bill for two shitburgers, two orders of fries, one sarsaparilla, and my self-worth only added up to $20. That’s less than the cost of the cyanide I so desperately wished I could have sprinkled into my meal. This place should be investigated by the Department of Justice and then bulldozed immediately for its crimes against humanity. I would literally rather go to McDonalds, my old high school cafeteria, or a baby’s diaper for a better patty. Needless to say, I will never go anywhere near there again. As I walked the streets of Yellow Springs following this catastrophic experience (all while keeping my ass cheeks desperately glued together for fear of uncontrollably defecating all over the sidewalk), I contemplated my life, the decisions I’ve made, and the path I’ve followed. If that path ever again leads me to (Name Redacted), I have had my husband sign a contract guaranteeing that he will immediately put me out of my misery in a way that will cause me the most considerable amount of pain possible, which still wouldn’t be as painful as eating here again.
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