Why I Can't Tell You All About The Sandwich of Horror

I thought the new KFC Double Down sandwich was the solution to all my problems.


I'm not talking about the problem of living for another day, although I'm pretty sure the Double Down, a fanciful bread-free extension on the very concept of sandwiches, will destroy all livers and infarct any tissues unlucky enough to encounter its giant lab-engineered polysaturates.  I'm talking about my blocked-up blog, which is getting less action these days than Mozart (because he's dead, you see).  In a finely-honed turn of irony, I figured that the act of ordering and eating one of these monsters would inspire me to write once more.

It turns out that it's harder to get a shitty sandwich in my town than I had anticipated.

First off, know that KFC's Double Down Sandwich is not really a sandwich at all.  The Double Down is a stack of meat, salt and dairy: two chicken breasts guarding several slices of bacon and melted cheese.  The fat and calorie counts are lower than you'd expect, but I believe that KFC employs CERN to fold additional crap into higher dimensions.  I don't think it's even intended as a legitimate product.  It's there to grab people's attention with the sheer salty chutzpah of its breadlessness.  It is meant to provoke, to anger, to inspire debate, to spike the blogosphere's coffee. The Double Down Sandwich is basically the insult comedy of fast food.

The problem is, there are no KFC's in the downtown area, which is where I live.  They surround the city's perimeter like a fairy ring, springing up wherever pimply masses of people need a triglyceride fix to make the trek from Walmart to Best Buy.  But anywhere close by?  Anywhere I could stop on my way home from work?  No.

So I decided to call the nearest outlet and order a sandwich for delivery.  I felt like I was ordering a cement mixer to pull up to my window and upend a liquid ton of gravy into my mouth.  But when I looked up the delivery number online, I realized that KFC was advertising everything but the Double Down.  The Big Fresh Sandwich, sure.  The Wrapstar (A Taste Explosion!).  The Boneless Original Recipe.  But no Double Down.

Canada, I thought, first no Hulu. Now no Double Down.  It was clear that KFC Canada had a whole different sales strategy.  Fresh?  Wraps?  But I thought I'd call anyway.

The woman on the other end of the phone had a hesitant tone in her voice, like she wasn't that familiar with phone technology.

- Hello, K, um, KFC, can I, help? You?

-Hi, do you carry the Double Down Sandwich?

-The Double wuh?

Two things: One, she actually said "wuh".  Two, in 2006, 87% of Canadian households subscribed to cable or satellite television.  With the market saturation of flat-screen TVs and the preponderance of digital cable services, that percentage has probably increased to something like 92-95%.  Everyone watches cable, is what I'm saying.  And basic Canadian cable is American television.  That's an oversimplification, but if you watch cable in Canada, you watch American television.  So by that logic, everyone has seen approximately 5 billion ads for the KFC Double Down.

This person, who worked at a KFC, who operated with KFC imprinted on the screen of her perceptions, who had a 95% chance of having seen an ad for this stupid wackadoo sandwich, had somehow failed to pick up on it.

-The Double Down Sandwich?  It's got two chicken breasts instead of a bun?  I was now explaining a KFC product to one of their employees, and acutely aware of how ridiculous I was sounding.  It's available in the States.

- Oh, we can't sell you things from the States.  And then she started laughing.  She was laughing at me because she thought I was asking her to ship a sandwich up from the States.

One of the worst things about dealing with phenomenally stupid people is that they are always one step ahead of you in the stupid domain.  You can't out-stupid a stupid person.  You can't think around their brainlessness. They're too smart for that.  But they only thing they're smart at is being really fucking stupid.

- Yes, I know, I said, hoping there was somewhere I could go that wouldn't pull my entire night into the tiger trap of stupid I'd stepped on.  I was just saying it's available in the United States.  That's how I know about it.

- But we can't get things from the States, sir.  She started giggling again.

At that point the only way to salvage the call was to switch gears and start ordering.  But then the entire kitchen would be making a bucket of chicken for the idiot who wanted them to order something from the States.  And the driver would be grinning as he handed my food over to the total douche who thought KFC delivered sandwiches to other countries.  So I just yelped out "Okay bye!" and got off the phone.

And then Schmutzie made some chicken wings from the freezer.  And they were damn tasty.