Damn it all, the bacon strips are too thin! Much too thin! This is not a Friendly’s and this prototype is not some hyperbole-encrusted SuperMelt™ shit sandwich! This is Denny’s, and we’ll go extra thick cut or we’ll go home.

Yes, I realize the bacon’s added girth means we’re sacrificing crispiness, but that’s OK. We’ll recover that coveted mouth feel contrast with the Lay’s Salt and Vinegar potato chips we’ve spread throughout the Velveeta cheese coating on our proprietary Butter Blasted Texas Toast™. We’re completely covered in the crunch department!

As for—holy shit, Carol! What the hell is going on with the four-meat patty blend?! Have we figured out what the last two are made of yet? Cambodia didn’t ship us dog again, did they? I will not have dog fucking up my calm like it did during the Turbo Shooter Honey-Dipped Corndog™ disaster. Huh? They didn’t ship dog? Did I hear that right? OK, great, but we still need to identify at least three so we can put the specifics on the menu and meet the FDA’s quality control standards. Could everyone please remember that we can’t list “other” as a category this time because we already used up our quota when we fast-tracked the Mac ‘n Cheese Big Daddy Patty Melt™ earlier this month? We only get to use that exemption once a quarter so everyone on the meat team get back in the lab and get me my 75%!

Come on people! Think! This is serious food service industry shit we’re literally wading through right now! Which reminds me: Who’s manning the sausage gravy station today? Be extra careful! Yesterday’s little incident probably cost Rory his eyes, but we need to table those raw emotions and ignore the police tape for the time being. We’re professionals. He knew what he signed on for when he started manipulating pork-based liquids. Instead of mourning like some small town diner we need to remember that we’re a cold, calculating mega-corporation and focus on gravy consistency. I mean, a little blood is fine, Darryl, but when our patty melt’s powdered scrambled egg filler starts looking like strawberry sherbet it means we’re stepping on the Dessert Department’s shoes. That’s the kind of cross-department contamination that gets this project and more than a few patrons killed!

Ergo, grunts, the Gooey Gravy Gobs™ portion of our new menu item needs to be cooked long enough that a visual inspection from the health department won’t cost us three months of development time like it did with the Slathered ‘n’ Lathered Sweet Sauce Sliders™. Intestinal rot? Really? Is that even a thing that can happen to people who are still alive? I guess we’ll never know for sure, will we? In the meantime, please consult the state-mandated, picture-based food preparation diagrams for help on the desired look and feel. We’re shooting for “brownish” per the district judge’s ruling.

Huzzah! Let’s do this! We need to hum if we’re going to make deadline. What’s wrong with you? Where’s the Denny’s pride? Why, when I was in the shit with Hardee’s back in the late 90’s we were pumping out prototype breakfast sandwiches at a blistering two-per-week pace—and that was BEFORE the Chinese created flash fryers and those wickedly efficient formaldehyde cold storage marinades we take for granted today.
Joe! Stop! Shut the fuck up, you hippie loon! I swear to Christ if you mention formaldehyde poisoning one more time I’m going to slice you up with the hand cut French fries machine and make you the signature side dish for this inevitably amazing sandwich. I’ll cut you, Joe, I swear I will. I’ll cut you up into a thousand crispy seasoned shafts and feed you to your coworkers during our 10-minute working lunch break. Then they’ll all smile greasy, toothy smiles, Joe, because you’ll be the tastiest fucking thing to come out of this test kitchen since we found a way to combine fried toast with macaroni and cheese.

Gah! Everyone stop looking at me like that! I’m kidding! Back to work! You’re all great and Joe’s going to be fine so long as his team figures out a way to get a seasonal ingredient into this patty melt by end of day. Speaking of which… it’s autumn—what do the trade rags say about this year’s crop of processed pumpkin paste? Mostly safe? Then let’s get cracking!