As I set out to write this review, I’m reminded of that familiar horror film trope: the eager journalist venturing innocently into an ordinary assignment, only to plunge unexpectedly into chaos. I realize it sounds dramatic, but this precisely describes my experience at Slayer Burger. The blame lies squarely on their latest devilish concoction: the Meshuggah Burger. View of Slayer Burger from the street, photo by Lance Marwood Stepping onto Toronto’s gritty east side, my past as a former Cabbagetown local floods back: years of shows, late-night meals, and urban misadventures. Slayer Burger commands the corner, marked unmistakably by an arresting mural of Slayer’s Jeff Hanneman mid-riff, splashed in a chaotic punk zine explosion of black, red, and orange. I grab my shots swiftly, appreciati...