The Hunger Meets Monaghan’s Team Platter

So this is going back a few weeks, but it’s still worth the post. Blake and I had just finished doing some interviews in Toronto, and after having some little girls shout at us, and getting lost several times, we decided a trip to Monaghans was in order.

It was Dion Phaneuf’s first games as a Toronto Maple Leaf, and chicken wings and hockey was all we wanted for the entire day.

This isn’t any regular trip you know. We were hungry, way too hungry for our own good. Upon arriving we take a seat with a giant flat screen television sitting in perfect sight, and we open up the menu.

“So how many wings can we eat?” Blake asks me. My tummy starts to grumble. I’ve been craving chicken wings all day.

“Fifty,” I say. At least.

Blake and I chuckle, we’re hilarious we know. That’s the team platter. If you don’t know, that means we are considering eating a meal fit for a team. What kind of team? We don’t know, perhaps a team of hockey or rugby players.

Phaneuf Owning some Newbs

We both decide on mild, and we order our epic team-sized portion, and wait.

And wait, and wait some more.

Then finally, the waitress arrives one-handing a giant plate full of delicious chicken wings, ready to be destroyed by The Hunger. Two plates, blue cheese, veggies, 25 dead chickens.

We dig in, the first period of the hockey game was a blur, chicken and sauce everywhere. This is gluttony at its finest. It is happiness.

There are about 15 wings left, Me and Blake are both hurting. I’ve broken out into meat sweats, Blake has a headache. But, we must keep eating.

We have to, or else I’ll have nothing to write about.

Blake calls it quits with three more wings to go. The sauce is all over my fingertips, there are piles of napkins everywhere, and one giant bowl of chicken bones.

This is the moment where I should stop eating. This will take me from being a glutton, to just hurting for several hours after this whole ordeal. But, I am a champ, and champs get the job done.

Two wings to go, one wing to go, and success.

My belly is swollen, I’m a little dizzy, and Blake hasn’t said a word for a couple of minutes. Who knows what kind of pain he’s in.

The Leaf game ends and Blake groans getting up from the table. We walk very slowly to the cash register.

We pay the price for what we’ve done. Slowly walking out of the bar, I feel several pounds heavier.

“No more chicken wings,” I say.

But we both know that isn’t the case, no not at all. For The Hunger never dies, and The Hunger must obtain it most desires!

  1. slow clap


    yes, fast clap!

    disgusted and impressed. I’m full after 15, you’re animals.


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