Let’s say you walk into your apartment after a night of drinking. On one couch is Scarlett Johansson, naked, prone, and begging you to treat her body like an all-you-can-eat filet mignon buffet. On a loveseat adjacent to that couch is Beyoncé Knowles, clad in a lace teddy with stitching that reads, “Take me off with your teeth.” Do you: (a) copulate with one while ignoring the other, or (b) avail yourself of the whole beautiful bounty?

Such is the quandary faced by all those who enter a KFC-Taco Bell hybrid. And it’s actually more of a dilemma than you might think, once consequences are taken into account.

While Taco Bell began as a trailblazing quick-Mex franchise, it has lately staked its fortunes on the belief that America’s obesity epidemic will only continue to grow. How else to explain the burritos inside of tacos inside of pizzas inside of bacon cheeseburgers that permeate its menu? At least there’s not any false advertising going on here; when a restaurant offers an item called a gordita, it’s making no effort to hide its cellulite.

But T-Bell’s unholy union with KFC was nevertheless a gut-buster. While clearly intended to give cheapskate night-owl stoners and drunks more one-stop-sop options, seeing Colonel Sanders’ mug perched alongside the pink-and-purple bell was enough to induce diarrhea by osmosis. And yet, it piqued a sort of sinister gastronomic curiosity. What if, for shits and giggles (mostly for shits), one were to order off both menus for one meal? What would that taste like? What would that feel like? What would the repercussions be? What if you bit the apple—and then bit the apple that’s wrapped in a tortilla lined with refried beans?

Last Tuesday, I finally acted on this ill-advised impulse, and the result was predictable: My ass turned into an active volcano after I consumed, in one sitting, two soft tacos, a chicken thigh, a chicken leg, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and a buttermilk biscuit. These foods simply are not meant to be paired. And yet their presence alongside one another—in one place, at one time—makes it impossible not to ponder a ménage-à-esophagus.

All of which brings us back to the apartment, where Scarlett and Beyoncé beckon. Bed ’em both, and the emotional aftermath could get significantly complex to the point where it’d end up being a one-time thing. But shun one, and lose her forever. It’s enough to make you think that maybe handing them their coats, taking a cold shower, and then asking Mary Louise Parker or Thandie Newton out on a proper date is the way to go. They may not give you the instant gratification you seek, but they’ll provide more nourishment over the long haul.