Late night correspondence with Rob Ford about the Cronut Burger
As many of you know, embattled Toronto Mayor Rob Ford and I were enrolled at Carleton University in Ottawa at the same time. It was here at a pub called Roosters that we became last-call drinking acquaintances. Ever since that time we’ve maintained sporadic contact, usually in the form of late-night messaging whenever one of us is drinking alone. Last night, around two in the morning, Rob started to message me:
Rob: You hear about the fucking cronut burger????
Me: It’s all anybody in Toronto can talk about!!
Rob: It’s a fucking doughnut that’s been bred with a croissant and a bacon cheeseburger! I want to eat about seven of them!
Me: It’s made 100 people sick! The city (YOU) shut down the stand at the CNE!
Rob: No way! That doesn’t sound like the free market! Gonna fuckin’ look into that. Gotta let the people decide.
Me: I love the word cronut.
Rob: I love being drunk.
Me: Me, too, buddy, me, too.
Rob: Cronut, it sounds like the fart noise you make after you drink chocolate milk.
Me: It sounds like the name of a military transport vehicle.
Rob: Or like the sound of fucking Hulk Hogan’s arm breaking when I arm wrestle him on Friday!!!
Me: You really doing that?
Rob: It’s what Da Mayor’s got to do. Can’t back down from bullies. Rule numero uno. It’s good fuckin’ governance.
Me: You should get him to eat a cronut before the match so he’s poisoned and weak.
Rob: Good thinking, gonna get my people on that, make a cronut task force. Get special cronuts for Hogan. He’s a bitch.
Me: He’s a big bitch
Rob: Like his daughter, tho. She be spicy! Anyway, I like this cronut game. Let’s keep playing!
Me: Cronut: A verb, slang for shitting the bed.
Rob: LOLLOLOLOLOLOLLLOO!!!
Me: The Cronuts: the name of an Improv comedy troupe.
Rob: Cronut: the sound your head makes when ur really drunk and you fall down!
Me: Saint Cronut: The patron saint of irony.
Rob: Cronut: The sound two reporter’s heads make when you fucking bash ‘em together!
Me: Cronut: The traditional Serbian ceremony performed when a boy passes into manhood.
Rob: Getting a cronut: What you say when you mean you’re going out to score drugs!
Me: My Little Cronut: A pet name for your lover.
Rob: Rusty Old Crunut: What you call a crack whore.
Me: Okay, I gotta go to bed. Rob, great chatting with you, and remember, you’re just governing the shit out of this city. Keep up the good work!
Rob: Don’t I know it! Alright, think I’m gonna go get me a cronut right now, gotta stay alert, get some of the cronuts for my arm wrestling thing! Fuck Hulk Hogan!!! Fuck him!!! Wonder if his daughter will be there?
Success with the arm wrestle!!!!!! Was it the Cronut or was Rob drunk?
The cronut will now launch itself into the world as a mysterious object with supernatural, voodoo powers. Like pyramid power in the 70s, only mutated by foodie culture. Cronut Credence. Cronut Confidence. Cronut Connections. ( Might also be a dating site based on food tastes)