A rare 'ugh'

(As anyone who knows me will tell anyone who cares to know) I'm not a food person.

I will eat stale roti with sour curd. I will eat daal and bread for dinner, or glucose biscuits for lunch. I will eat on streets, off highways... Punjabi-style chow-chow and tandoori-style pizza and greasy halwa off stalls in the narrow gallies, flies abuzz... anything goes.

I will not whisper a word of complaint.

I do not rant about unpleasant food experiences, but!
Wimpy's has tested the absolute limit of my gastronomic tolerance.

I've eaten a lot in my time, but!
I've never eaten lamb burgers that taste like chewed-up Hawai Chappals.

Either that 'lamb' was sacrificed at the altar of muscular depolarization... or else, they tried to cross a rubber duck with a frigid goat, and fed me the result.

For the first time in my life, I have been grateful that Pepsi existed!

My friend was served a squishily yellow drink that passed for cold coffee. It reminded me too much of Bombay's gutters; didn't dare sample it.

Despite all this, I wouldn't have complained so much if it wasn't for the damn copycat attitude in that place. They've tried to model it exactly on MacDonalds faux-cheery countenance.... The counters. The queues. The menu. The prices. The tables. The uniforms. The trays and wrappers and dustbins.... Then why, oh why, was it so difficult to produce something edible?

And why, oh why, would anyone come to Wimpy's, for the joy of eating chewed-up hawai chappals, when MacDs is exactly a sixty second walk away?

When was the last time the owner sat down and ate at the eatery? If anyone knows him/her/them, please do communicate my sentiments: Ugh!