Today we examine the Whopperito. The word Whopperito is a portmanteau of “Whopper” and “burrito” and the item (the Whopperito) is precisely the same thing. Let us begin.

Imagine if the contents of a Whopper were gutted and transplanted into a tortilla. Very little changes bar the presentation, which has taken an ethnic cloak. The tortilla, while providing the appeal of the whole meal, eventually leads to its downfall and subsequent collapse. Fatal flaw. Hamartia. A burrito needs a stable base, bedrock. Refried beans usually meet this standard, but the Whopperito lacks any sort of foundation. It is unrealistically limp and it will move and writhe with any slack you give it so eating it feels like you are biting into the head of a living, twisting animal. The burrito is squirrel-sized and soft like parchment.

When you manage to land your teeth on the thing, the flour tortilla will immediately coagulate and paste to the roof of your mouth, impeding your ability to speak for a few seconds and forcing you to jam your tongue around the front of your mouth trying to dislodge the stucco. This is not a food you should eat during a date. Into your second bite, you will feel all the regularities of your standard burger: the half-crunch-half-give of a deflated pickle, the crumble of substandard beef, the ketchup sour, the flaccid no-taste of lettuce. It does indeed taste like a Whopper, but there are some unknown spices that flavor it TexMex.

Oddly, the Whopperito packs a comical amount of lettuce into its hold, where it seems to act as healthy contrast to the shades of brown that make up the rest of the meal. If you eat this, the lettuce will just seem to keep coming, spilling with each bite, falling onto the paper wrapper and piling into a bed that you will throw away with a certain amount of guilt, depending on your conscience. There are some sorts of sauce included. One is ketchup, but I think there are two more: nameless, inconceivable, only He knows what they are. As there is too much lettuce, there is too much sauce and it will pool on any surface it touches. I don’t remember if there is any cheese. There might’ve been but in slices, not shreds. I’m beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a fever dream. I have a history with hallucinations, visions and premonitions.

Did I mention how unsound the burrito’s construction is? It is faulty, a public hazard. A downed power line. A crumbling bridge. My palate is rather unrefined. The Whopperito, I believe, has two patties but they are crushed to fit the vessel so it could be plus or minus one patty. Caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware. The Whopperito does not taste bad. It tastes as one would expect. It sits very comfortably in the not-good-but-not-bad category. Would I eat one again? Yes, I would. However, I would eat most things again. In the end, it’s your choice. As it always be. Forever and ever, amen. What do you choose? Do you choose? Have you ever seen Trainspotting? Will you choose life? Do not choose the Whopperito, if you have the choice.