Hello friends! Mark and Steve here, on Sunday we wandered into the local 99¢ store on La Brea in Hollywood. Hunting for cheaps snacks and cheap thrills on a lazy Sunday, we discovered an interesting new food group, “Mallow”:
We were tickled by the fact that marshmallow products, pressed and colored to resemble hot dogs, pizza, hamburgers and fries even existed so we bought one of each, and scurried home.
What follows is the true, documented, and photographed tellings of two able-bodied eaters in the greatest taste-test of their lives!
The grisly details follow after the cut.
Photos by Sara Zaragoza, click on them for biggification
Our unwrapped booty.
We were stymied at first, not sure what to do with them… I mean, clearly, death would soon follow upon eating any one entire Mallow brand product. So, we decided to each take one bite of every gooey imitation. If both of us entered into simultaneous cardiac arrest, Steve’s wife Sara could put down the camera and call for help. Or laugh… Or join in on the “fun” and commit food-icide! (That last joke is our way of making you believe the “su” in suicide, is an actual word on it’s own! Therefore making “food-icide” a perfectly acceptable joke word for all intents and purposes!)
The first thing we opened was the pizza… it seemed the least threatening, but turned out to have a surprising rubbery odor. Much like that of an eraser, or a bicycle handle. Which are both quite appetizing!
Steve takes the first bite of the icky delicacy…
The fun evening nearly ended here as Steve began to question how his life had culminated in biting a gummy pizza encrusted in candied, pink pepperonis. However, Steve had taken a bite, it was only fair that Mark follow suit.
Mark hefts the mock pizza, surprised at it’s ample weight.
He bites into gluey mass, surprised at how tough and unpleasant it is… like some kind of endangered animal jerky, or a strong leather belt.
We decide that water would be ideal at this point, seeing as the foul, apparently edible material was having an exceptionally hard time making the long journey down our dry gullets . We realize the dangers of adding water to the already expanding bits of concentrated mallow in our middle bits, but if we weren’t aware of the dangers, your hungered heroes wouldn’t be pressing on and doing what must be done! For science! And more importantly, for you, brave reader!
Next up, the “burger”… opened with great trepidation by Mark.
The burger is quite thick, and has a squishy quality… not unlike that of a dog’s chew toy. It’s just a tad more yielding and is more or less edible.
Make that less edible. Much, much less…
P.S. We’d love to meet the guy that thought this crap was a good idea… We’d probably tell him: “Hey, dude… This crap? It’s a bad idea…” And then we’d hit him, with Mark’s glasses.
Steve attacks the burger, unafraid of eating something that really ought to be hanging from his rear view mirror.
Again, we ponder how our lives have reached this point. Sara questions the long-term health affects this may have… Steve doesn’t really want kids anyway… Onward!
Next up, the hot dog… which has a very, convincing, wiener-like shape to it. But somehow, it fails to whet our appetites…
Steve takes a giant bite… as if compelled by some long-stifled urge he has yet to admit to himself.
Mark contemplates suicide. It is around this time that Sara begs us to stop… fearing for her husband’s life. Mark’s life, not so much.
We are able to stifle Sara’s concerns as the next item is relatively small and we’ll only take one bite each from the same “fry”.
The “fries” came with a delightfully shocking bag of “Kandy Ketchup”. Of course, including the standard tomato ketchup with sugary “Mallow Fries” would be silly! The obvious choice for the manufacturer was to include yummy, sour, “strawberry” flavored gel to drench our “fries” in!
We dripped the syrupy red goo on the bumpy, bulbous fake fries and got to chewing.
Mark nearly expectorates.
…but recovers and manages to chew up and swallow the sticky, leathery mess.
Mark catches some errant red gel in his hand as Steve shoves a faux fry into his accepting maw.
The combination of Mallow brand foods, coupled with extreme fear and nausea, temporarily grants Steve the power to see through time.
Afterwards, what’s left is little more than a pile replica junk food, whose missing bites are slowly making their way through Steve and Mark’s upper intestines and with any luck will make their way out sometime before the end of the month.
So what did we learn? Are there better things to do for two young, strapping males to do on a Sunday in Los Angeles than clogging their insides with pretend marshmallow food? Of course, we could have ventured to find real versions of our now symbiotic, 765 calorie per serving, squishy treats, only to be treated to foods with similar calorie counts, but with less post-feast vomiting!
Anyone want to send over some Tums?
Mark and Steve signing off!