Traitor King

Throughout my life, I have loved fast food chain Burger King. Ask any one of my friends, family members, or romantic partners, particularly those who tend to now avoid me: I suggest good old “BK” for EVERYTHING. Quick snack? Burger King. Milestone birthday? Burger King. Anniversary dinner? Burger King. Funeral luncheon? Burger King. My dad not only worked at a Burger King through college, but also met my mom there (this doesn’t mean I was conceived there) (as far as I know).

One day, prior to attending some sort of event in the city (it could have been a show, it could have been a movie, it could have been a ritual killing; I don’t remember), I decided to grab dinner somewhere. A number of restaurants in the vicinity met my strict culinary criteria:

–They were right there
–They were cheap

I opted for my old favorite, primarily because its competitors in the area did not contain that delicious, lightly peppered staple known as chicken tenders. Little did I know that I was about to find out the hard way that these chicken tenders were also not a part of Burger King’s menu.

Sitting down at a table consisting of 15% Formica and 85% grime, I began to dig into my meal. I popped open the traditional midget-casket-resembling box of tenders, assuming my eyes would be blessed with the usual sight of eight crispy tenders shaped like regal crowns. Instead, my eyes were slapped with the content of the below picture:

Bewilderment was the first feeling to bubble to the surface (apparently, my feelings were surfacing in alphabetical order that day). What were these nugget-like things? I have seen them before, sure, but always with a McDonalds or Wendys logo nearby. I quickly dismissed said bewilderment with the logical conclusion that the chain simply opted to change the shape of their chicken pieces. I still remember (and am still somewhat pissed about) the chicken tenders’ previous plastic surgery, when their long, finger-esque shape had become a dorky-looking “crown.” Since dead processed chickens aren’t exactly art supplies, you really had to possess nearsightedness or mental retardation to think you had a box of eight crowns. They looked more like severed duck feet than anything a royal (even that turd Prince William) would ever adorn.

I picked up the first tender…er, nugget…and, its lightly breaded coating attaching itself to my fingers (another noticeable difference), bit into it.

The crispy coating? Gone. The lightly peppered recipe? Also gone. In its place was this impostor nugget; it was as native to a box of Burger King chicken tenders as much as an onion ring or cantaloupe would be. Why was it here? Why did it bring seven siblings? The flavorless meat reminded me of something you would find in a recently-thawed-out box of Weaver chicken pieces from the supermarket. I bit into a piece of the box in which the nuggets resided and came to the chilling conclusion that the taste of cardboard matched the taste of the meat within its walls. I also realized that people around me who were probably about to ask me for spare change saw me bite into a chicken tenders box and felt it was in their best interest to avoid me at all costs. Did Burger King run out of its own chicken tenders and need to borrow some at the last minute from some other store?

Then I saw the signage.

These are the “new” chicken tenders.

The old ones are GONE.

This is like saying “We canceled tonight’s Billy Joel concert so we could bring you…William Hung!”

My love of Burger King had seen tough times in the past, sure. The aforementioned chicken tender shape shift, for one. When it adopted the creepiest mascot ever that hovered outside of people’s windows, I was cool with it. And when its online Subservient Chicken did not have a pre-programmed response to “masturbate,” I understood. But this was too much. At a place with such a specific name (BURGER King), I expect the highest grade of chicken products!

One of my favorite fast food items had been lost to a permanent change meant to highlight the chain’s dipping sauce offerings (seriously). The damn thing was being HEAVILY PROMOTED. What hurts the most is that this boring, cardboard-flavored thing carries with it the moniker “chicken tender.” It’s like the more promising of a couple’s young sons dying and the parents opting to rename their underachieving, drooling kid after him. Yes, I did just compare the changing of Burger King’s chicken recipe to the death of someone’s child. Don’t like it? Write your own Facebook note.

My future trips to Burger King are now sadly limited. I suppose I will be ordering Whoppers from now on.

Until they replace them with tofu burgers.

R.I.P.