A cook in the steamy kitchen of a hole in the wall burger joint somewhere south southwest is tearing shit up. Single patty, flip. 10 bacon slices up top. Second patty, flip. Fresh lettuce greens cut right then and there. Seasoned buns kissed by the charbroiled mesquite flame. Cheese draped with savory melting satisfaction. All onto a greasy plate... assembled with ease but perfectly stacked soon to be remorse that even the most uptight Vegan could appreciate. Even the special ejaculated secret sauce. He carries the hot plate over to a sitting Broken Champion, then flings it greasey jizz first into his eyes. He falls to the floor in pain holding his face, the cook takes off his chef whites and hat, revealing our local 'Radical' up to no good once again before delivering a devastating 'Rated R' front flip leg drop off an orange and blue prop table. Old Man Johnson at another table sighs and tosses his lunch in the trash, sliding in for his duty. The pin...

Mmm, mmm, X-Treme bacon burger for the Brother Bitch!

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