The other day I’m going to school and didn’t have anything to quickly make or grab for breakfast, so I decided to swing by McDonald’s. I scan the menu and alight on the Sausage Burrito. I’ve never had it before, but I’m a huge fan of breakfast burritos, and figure, what the hell, how bad can it be?

My question is quickly answered when I unwrap the first burrito, using my knees to weave through early morning Pullman traffic. Far from the hefty, muscular burrito pictured, this thing is the circumference of a ballpoint pen with approximately the same nutritional value.

Steeling myself, I take a bite. At first, it’s not bad. I can taste salt, and water, and – well, that’s about it. It has a chewy, almost rubbery texture. All in all, it’s not unlike trying to eat a used condom.

As I floor the accelerator to make the next yellow light, narrowly avoiding clipping a student, I make the mistake of glancing down at the burrito in my hand. I’m greeted by a sea of yellow. Surprised, I let God take the wheel while I dig out the receipt. Sure enough – two sausage burritos. For some reason, there’s no sausage in this – just a mass of overly moist egg product wrapped in a overly dry tortilla. On closer examination, I see the “egg” is soaking wet, coated in a white viscous liquid that makes me wonder if some self-loathing college student working the assembly line at McDonald’s has jerked off into my burrito.

After a moment, I remind myself not to jump to conclusions: anyone working at McDonald’s could have ejaculated onto my breakfast.

Somewhat distressed, I take a second bite, swallowing it nearly whole, and am finally greeted by my first glimpse of actual sausage (using the words “actual” and “sausage” here loosely, of course). Elated, I pluck it from the burrito and pop it in my mouth to savor the rich sausagey flavor. Dimly, I’m aware I’m actually eating ground-up pig cartilage mixed with calcium chloride and propyl gallate; but with intense concentration, I can usually focus on the mass of taste-bud-pleasing chemicals added to disguise the fact that what I’m eating is less healthy than the plastic wrapper it came in and probably less flavorful. Still, I’m disappointed. It reminds me of this one time when I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, and I didn’t taste anything.

Of course, tasting nothing means it doesn’t taste bad, so I soldiered on, only to be greeted by cheese. Now, I hate American cheese for two reasons: First, it’s not American (anyone who would make a product that shitty is clearly a terrorist sympathizer and terrorists sympathizers are rarely American) and second, it’s not cheese. Still, it’s to be expected on fast food burgers, and usually it blends into the background of nonexistent flavors. This, however, was the most rancid, vile slice of processed milk protein concentrate that has ever passed through my lips. I choke back the gag reflex.

My final bite contained a few shreds of pepper and onion, which actually tasted vaguely like peppers and onions after being chemically treated, freeze-dried, and stored for six months. They would have been welcome if the few meager shreds hadn’t been relegated to the very bottom of the burrito. But worst of all, as I finished the burrito spurted out the last few drops of milky viscous liquid that had gathered at the bottom of the tortilla, dribbling down the front of my shirt like I’d just stepped out of a Japanese adult film studio.

Still, I reasoned, there was always the chance that I’d just had the worst burrito McDonald’s had ever made. I reached for the second one to see if it was better than the first.*

*It wasn’t.