Foods from the Crypt: The Secret Recipe

Heh heh heh... Welcome, kiddies, to another midnight stroll through the graveyard of bad ideas. Pull up a tombstone and listen close, because tonight's tale may be extra rare, but it's been fried to a crisp. Hee-hee-hee!

The Deal

It all began with a whisper, from the internet's festering underbelly. A little satirical site suddenly posts an article titled Breaking: McDonald's Serves Human-Meat Undetected for 7 Months!!! "Pure fiction," they said. The article was clearly stamped "satire". But rumors have legs, don't they? Well, these rumors ran and ran, dodging "fact-checkers" for over a decade, and they always kept everyone coming back for seconds, because it was just "too damn good".

The Plot

Imagine... just imagine... a sector of the franchise, tucked away in the German countryside, where one manager grows tired of rising beef prices and has to do something. He had an idea, but it was that which ultimately led to his demise. He made a deal with the devil—or at least with the local funeral director. For seven long, profitable months, the dead were no longer resting in peace. They were... repurposed—for feast. Mmm-hmm-hmm-hmm.

May I Take Your Order?

Picture this: it's the witching hour, the golden arches are flickering like in an apocalyptic nightmare. The fog rolls in. The drive-thru under the pale glow of neon. Overnight deliveries are arriving right on time. A hearse rolls up. Silent as death itself, shadowy figures begin unloading their cargo. The back door of the kitchen opens. The figures carry the body bags in. The door slams shut. The meat grinder whirs and blood splatters the freezer walls, like abstract art gone wrong, turning yesterday's dearly departed into tomorrow's lunch special. Whoopsie-daisy!

Repeat Business

Customers kept coming back, didn't they? Praising the "rich, almost nostalgic" flavor, the depth that no cow could ever match. Seven months of bliss in the bank account for both the funeral home and the local McDonald's... that is—until the whistle blew. When the curtain finally tore, the fallout was biblical. Mass food fraud, corpse desecration under § 168 of the German code, grave robbing, body trafficking—and oh yes, murder or manslaughter charges (§§ 211, 212) because fresh meat doesn't come from natural causes. The perpetrators? They got to rot in cells for decades, maybe forever. This McDonald's Germany? Crushed under fines, liability, and the sweet smell of bankruptcy.

The Casualties

But the real punchline here was the health bill. Human flesh is a plague waiting to happen: prions brewing variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, viruses like HIV and hepatitis hitching a ride, and bacteria thriving in the filth of secret slaughter. Let's not forget Kuru—the laughing death, that exquisite little number that happens to cannibals. Tremors, giggles, then lights out. Thousands—maybe tens of thousands—exposed. Contact tracing? A sick joke. The Robert Koch Institute, EU, WHO—they all scream "pandemic." Years later the Prions and the Kuru would bloom like poisonous flowers, lawsuits stacking higher than the bodies ever did.

Dirty Money

The money? Gone in a flash. Stock crater 50–80%, billions vanishing faster than a double cheeseburger from the dollar menu. Boycotts, closures, bans—countries slamming doors shut like coffins. The brand? A smoking ruin, worse than any corporate scandal in history. Society itself shuddering. Trust in food chains, supermarkets, even funeral homes evaporate. New laws rise like headstones: DNA tracking for every corpse, "Definitely Not Human" labels on every patty. The cannibalism taboo, shattered on an industrial scale, leaving scars that documentaries, books, and memes would pick on for generations. Protests raging outside the surviving stores, torches high, fury pure.

The Question

Good thing this is a work of fiction. Right?