When it comes to food, almost everyone has a guilty pleasure. Maybe yours is Cadbury Creme Eggs (wisely bought on sale after Easter and saved in the depths of your freezer so you can enjoy one every month of the year that follows when nobody else has any), or trashy frozen French bread pizzas that remind you of hanging out at your friends’ houses in high school, or possibly even intimidating sandwiches you painstakingly assemble using two of those French bread pizzas in place of a sub roll, like a true sandwich artiste (particularly going for that self-destructive streak too many artists share). It might be something as simple as ice cream, or fries, or fries dipped in said ice cream. You might have a love-hate relationship with these foods. Indulging might make you feel bad physically after the initial rush of excitement and joy, but you can’t help yourself. Or they might bring you to a happy and comfortable place at the time, but then you feel shame or depression later on, like so many dysfunctional relationships.
After a disastrous attempt at the keto diet back in 2017, I now firmly believe we should eat whatever we want, just maybe a little bit less of it at each sitting, and maybe not indulge quite as often. But life is full of pain and suffering and misery and unhappiness, and it’s all over much too quickly. I say we should just take our pleasures where we can find them — ideally with some modicrum of moderation — and not feel too guilty.
Of course, that’s easier said than done when when of your (by which I mean my) guiltiest food pleasures are cheese Krystals, tiny little cheeseburgers served with mustard, onions, and a pickle slice on soft steamed buns. Krystals (sometimes colloquially referred to as “sliders”) are the signature item from the fast food chain Krystal (https://krystal.com/). If this sounds familiar, you might be thinking of White Castle, a fast food chain located throughout the Northern U.S. We don’t have White Castle here (and I’ve never had a chance to go to one), but Krystal is the Southern equivalent. Founded in 1932 in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Krystal’s website claims it is the second-oldest fast food restaurant. Locations are decorated in white and red and have a bit of a retro feel to them, and they’re usually sparkling clean and bright.
As you might guess, the Krystal burgers are very cheap (being a product of the Great Depression), remaining one of the better fast food values today. They are meant to be consumed in mass quantities, and as you might also guess, they are not exactly health food. I usually only go to Krystal once or twice a year, and luckily I have to drive out of my way to go to one, keeping it a rare indulgence. When I go, I usually order a dozen cheese Krystals, and each soft little slider is lovingly tucked into a cardboard sleeve with one open side. I’ll reach into the bag on my passenger seat and wolf down several of them before I even make it home. Hey, I’m not proud.
But perhaps in an attempt to reach out to people like me, Krystal recently instituted an all-you-can-eat deal, offering unlimited Krystals and fries for $5.99. (This deal is for dining in only. You can’t get it to go, and you can’t leave and come back later and hope to get more.) I had to try it, for the sake of this food blog and my dozens of vaguely-interested readers. I figured I would live-blog my experience as I ate more and more sliders, perhaps chronicling my physical and mental decline, and to see how long I could stay in the restaurant, how many they would be willing to serve at a time, whether I could beat my previous Krystal record of eating twelve, and whether or not I’d wear out my welcome before I tapped out. I love the state of journalism in 2019, don’t you?
Here’s a twist: I don’t think Krystal’s fries are anything special, so perhaps for the first time in the very short history of their all-you-can-eat deal, I asked them to hold the fries and just give me cheese Krystals. (The incredulous cashier said “Are you sure? The fries are included!”) Just so ya know, the cheese is a $2 upcharge, but I think it’s totally worth it, as long as we’re indulging. I also ordered a drink, a Sprite slushie for $1. Hey, big spender!
So instead of giving you a tray laden with a precarious leaning tower of burgers like an old Jughead comic book cover, they start you out with four at a time. If I had wanted fries, they would have given me a regular order of fries to begin with as well.
Well, these sliders slide down real easy, so it wasn’t long before I went back to the counter and asked for a re-up. Luckily they weren’t busy. You can tell some time has passed because I drank about a third of the Sprite slushie with the first round. Here’s round two: four more cheese Krystals. 
I took my time with those soft, squishy, oniony, mustardy, cheesy little monsters, but I wasn’t ready to surrender to the sweet embrace of oblivion yet. Like I said, my record for Krystals consumed had been twelve — sadly my usual order for the once or twice a year I drive through. Whatever happened, I wanted to at least top that. Why, you ask? I couldn’t really tell you, dear Saboscrivnerinos. Bragging rights? I hardly think this is anything to brag about.
So I asked the nice lady for an order of five more, just so I’d have thirteen in all, and I could reevaluate my options after that. She didn’t even argue with me. I was clearly a man who came to play, who meant business, who could hold his sliders with the best of them. Here they are, the Furious Five with no Grandmaster Flash in sight, and one-third of the slushie remaining. 
In case there was any doubt remaining, I inhaled them.
And you know what? After that, I made what might have been the smartest move I made that day — I called it a day. Walked away while I was still on top (so to speak), quit while I was ahead (arguably), didn’t foolishly try to hit some arbitrary new Krystal milestone like 20, or doubling my old record with 24.
I ate thirteen of those things, and they were delicious, and I got it out of my system (pun very much intended). I don’t need to return to Krystal for a while now — I’m good! By the time I make it back, this dangerous all-you-can-eat deal will probably be over, and that’s fine with me. I did the unthinkable that day, fearless readers, and lived to tell about it. It was an intense 15 minutes that afternoon, let me tell you!
The Saboscrivner 