Mouthole Burgers and Bbq — Restaurant in Florida

🕯️💀 SACRIFICE YOUR DIET TO THE SMOKED MEAT GODS OF MOUTHHOLE 💀🕯️ I walked into Mouthhole Smashburgers & BBQ a boy with dreams. I left a greasy-handed, meat-sweating shell of a man, whispering the word “jizzled” under my breath like a cursed spell I didn’t understand but desperately wanted more of.

Right out the gate—Nikki behind the register greets you with the warmth of a DMV agent who’s just been asked if she’s open on Sundays. Ray’s in the back looking like he’s barbecuing for the Four Horsemen. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t blink. He just grills. And if you slide him a cigar, he might make your meat extra jizzled—which I’m 70% sure is illegal in five counties and 100% sure is the best thing to ever happen to my face.

Their smoked meatloaf? It’s like your grandma’s Sunday dinner got possessed by a flavor demon and now it speaks in tongues and pairs well with coleslaw. The cheesy beef sandwich made me cry, punch my steering wheel, and text my wife “you're right, I am emotionally unavailable, but LOOK AT ME NOW.”

The cornbread skulls? Yeah, they bake them in the shape of tiny little heads. I bit into one and heard it whisper “repent.” That’s just how good the butter-to-crumble ratio is. And don’t even get me started on the smashburgers. I took one bite and blacked out. Came to in the parking lot with grease on my chin and a receipt for $87. I didn’t even question it. I framed it. Atmosphere? Imagine Mad Max opened a food truck with Gordon Ramsay and decided they were both done coddling humanity. If you want friendly smiles, go to Chick-fil-A. If you want meat so delicious it makes you question every life choice that led you to NOT eating here sooner, get in line and keep your damn voice down. Highlights: • Sauce is applied via something called a “jizzle,” and no one’s legally allowed to ask questions about it. • There’s a 1-star Yelp review that’s been laminated and hung on the wall like a Purple Heart. • No forks. No apologies. Just napkins, meat, and quiet sobbing in your car afterward. Final review? 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Five stars. Zero shame. One full-body flavor exorcism. Will be back. Probably tomorrow. Might propose...

History is marked, on occasion, with great works of mankind that serve as guideposts along our path to civilization. The Colossus at Rhodes, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, DaVinci’s Vitruvian Man, Rodin’s “The Kiss”, the Moai at Rapa Nui. The list goes on and on. Sadly, the last two centuries have brought us little indication of our further progress. That all changed for me when I walked into Mouthole. When I entered I first thought I saw an angel, accompanied by a spritely nymph. They appeared as statues at first, and tears rushed into my eyes at the beauty I saw. The spell was broken as they moved and I realized that here I saw not statues, but artists, and my nose filled with olfactory delight at the scents wafting from behind the counter. I soon learned that the angel was a man named Ray, and the nymph his lovely wife Nikki. Taken aback, I initially thought I had died and gone to heaven. Like Pavlov’s dog, I immediately began to salivate at the anticipation of sampling the creations of this Xanadu I had stumbled into. I asked what they recommended and Ray said “The Big Sloppy” I was astounded, as this was my nickname in high school, and I knew that fate had brought me here. Nikki, with a smile that glowed from within like a beam from Heaven, asked “Would you like Ray to jizzle extra on that for you?” How could I not take that offer? So Ray made, nay, created the sandwich, like God breathing life into a clay Adam. I held my breath as he jizzled the sandwich for me, and as I sat and put Ray’s meat into my mouth tears of joy ran down my face. After the sandwich I lurched to the door, my mad foodlust satiated and my energy spent. Their mirthful laughs followed me out of the door as I wandered away, wondering if it was all a dream. I know now that it was not, it seemed so only because it’s hard to imagine any reality being so glorious. I am wonderfully and fearfully recreated, thanks to Mouthole and extra jizzle. My faith in mankind is restored. Bless you Mouthole, and...

🔥🔥🔥 Unholy Praise for Mouthhole Smashburgers & BBQ 🔥🔥🔥

If you’ve never had your taste buds violated—in a consensual, toe-curling way—Mouthhole Smashburgers & BBQ is here to change your life and ruin your pants. The name says it all. You come in hungry, you leave with your mouth hole stretched in ways you didn’t think possible (emotionally and possibly spiritually).

The food? Absolute carnal chaos. Burgers so juicy they should be illegal in at least three states. Brisket so tender it slid into my DMs and ghosted me after. I bit into a smashburger and momentarily forgot my cousin’s name. I’d sell state secrets for another rack of ribs. Hell, I’d give up my PIN number and my dignity.

The menu? It’s so easy to read, it’s like ordering at a drive-thru inside a dream. No bougie nonsense. Just meat, fire, and flavor. Even my buddy Travis—who once got kicked out of a Waffle House for trying to trade Pokémon cards for eggs—could figure it out.

Management? Straight-up meat mafia. These people are in control. They take zero jive, sass, or Yelp-certified whimpering from Karens who think “too much flavor” is a real complaint. Complainers get dealt with—politely, but with the kind of energy that says, “We know where you park.”

Now, I’m not saying the name “Mouthhole” is a not-so-subtle wink to a certain… anonymous service portal… but let’s just say: what happens here is fast, dirty, satisfying, and you’ll tell all your friends afterward. Except this time it’s brisket, not regret.

Bottom line: if your idea of self-care includes smoked meat, melted cheese, and a dining experience that leaves you needing a cigarette afterward—welcome home.

💦 Five stars. Six napkins. One questionable thought about a...