SuperSONIC® Double Cheeseburger
$7.29 | 1070 cal
A Burger With More Life Than 95% of Self-Help Gurus
There are burgers you eat because you’re hungry.
Then there’s the Super SONIC Double Cheeseburger, a 1070-calorie freight train that hits your soul before it ever touches your tastebuds.
Second only in raw firepower to the SuperSONIC Bacon Double Cheeseburger, this beast sits near the top of the Sonic menu with prices, and for good reason; it doesn’t come to play. It comes to conquer.
This isn’t “drive-thru fast food” in the usual limp, greasy, drive-to-regret way.
This is a public declaration of dominance, wrapped in wax paper.
Every bite scream, “I’m not here for half-effort.”
It’s not plant-based.
It’s not keto.
It’s not featured in a yoga instructor’s meal prep reel.
It’s the opposite of filtered.
This is the burger your conscience warned you about.
And that’s exactly why it tastes like victory.
No digital detox, silent retreat, or mindfulness journaling session has ever delivered the soul-hug that this toasted, melty unit does in one swing.
Because sometimes, what you need isn’t a motivational quote.
You need two full slabs of beef, cheese that clings like tax debt, and a bun so golden it could fund a startup.
You think clarity comes from green juice?
Clarity comes from 1070 calories of honesty stacked between your hands.
This isn’t nostalgia.
This is now.
And whether you’re at rock bottom, climbing out of burnout, or just tired of being polite to tasteless food, this burger doesn’t offer comfort.
It offers closure.
On weak meals. On sad desk lunches. On the idea that food can’t be thrilling anymore.
This is what you order when you remember who you are.
What’s Inside? The Psychological Warfare Between the Buns
Beef With Beef
Two thick, furious patties. Not “cooked to perfection”, seared like they’ve been in prison and just got parole. These aren’t here to be liked. They’re here to dominate your jaw muscles and make you question why you ever settled for nuggets. This beef doesn’t whisper flavor; it files a restraining order on blandness.
Cheese That’s Basically Emotional Luggage
Two molten sheets of American cheese. Not melted, melted with resentment. Clinging like your ex’s texts at 2 AM. It doesn’t just coat the meat. It smothers it. It holds grudges. It’s dairy that’s been through something. Every bite is a hot, creamy reminder that soft doesn’t mean weak. It means you’re about to feel things.
Pickles: The Green Violence You Needed
Crinkle-cut and cutthroat. These pickles snap like they grew up in a broken home. Sour with zero boundaries. A mouth-jab so sharp it resets your memory. They bring chaos with crunch and don’t apologize after.
Onions That Would Fight Your Dad
These aren’t toppings. These are confrontations. Raw. White. Aggressive. The flavor equivalent of being called out in public, harsh, humbling, unforgettable.
Lettuce and Tomato: IRS-Approved Freshness
The only ingredients keeping this thing legally edible. A splash of produce to convince your inner critic you haven’t lost all control. Barely there. Just enough to scream plausible deniability.
Toasted Bun: The Golden Restraint
This bun doesn’t hold the burger together. It contains the riot. Lightly toasted like it’s been warned. Sweet like a lie you want to believe. Holds the storm between your fingers while the flavor wages war in your mouth.
Affordability – That Feels Like Insider Trading
If you’re paying more than $7.29 for a burger, you’re not a customer, you’re a victim.
There’s a term for people who drop ten bucks on a burger that couldn’t scare a salad: financial hostages.
You sit there chewing air, pretending it’s flavor, while your wallet bleeds out.
Shake Shack charges $10.09 for a bacon cheeseburger that tastes like it graduated liberal arts and came back with gluten trauma. Pretty? Sure. Satisfying? Only if you’re on a soft foods diet.
Five Guys hits $10.91 for their “Little Bacon Cheeseburger.” Little what? Little meat. Little joy. Little mercy. You’re basically tipping them for reminding you what disappointment tastes like.
Smashburger wants $13.74 for their Double BBQ Bacon Smash. For $13.74, the burger should drive itself to your mouth and whisper compliments while you chew. Instead, you get BBQ sauce on a midlife crisis.
Then there’s Sonic.
That’s it. That’s the damage. Not to your wallet, but to the entire overpriced burger industry limping around in designer aprons pretending to be gourmet.
Just a Super Double Cheeseburger with more beef, more cheese, and more intent to destroy than anything its overpriced cousins could dream of.
It doesn’t hide behind brand hype. It doesn’t need a backstory. It simply shows up and outperforms the entire room.
1070 calories of flavor warfare, for less than what Five Guys charges for an existential crisis.
This isn’t value.
It’s robbery in your favor.
You’re not paying for prestige. You’re not funding someone’s food truck memoir.
You’re paying for a real burger. One that earns its price by shutting your mouth full of meat.
And in a world full of menu scams in tuxedos, Sonic rolls up with a bat and a deal.
Price Comparison Summary
| Brands | Item | Price |
|---|---|---|
| Sonic Drive-In | SuperSONIC Double Cheeseburger | $7.29 |
| Shake Shack | Bacon Cheeseburger | $10.09 |
| Five Guys | Little Bacon Cheeseburger | $10.91 |
| Smashburger | Double BBQ Bacon Smash | $13.74 |
A Multivitamin Wouldn’t Survive This Burger
Everyone wants to talk “health” until the conversation gets inconvenient.
You want clean eating? Go lick a cucumber.
You want real health? Grab a chair. It’s time for uncomfortable truths with a side of pickles.
The Super SONIC Double Cheeseburger doesn’t pretend to be a kale smoothie. It doesn’t pose in gym lighting and quote podcasts. It stares you in the face with 1070 calories and says, “I’ll be the best decision you’ve made all week.”
Because the real killer of modern health? It’s not fat.
It’s fake food and fake fulfillment.
You eat rabbit food all week and still feel empty. Meanwhile, this burger hands you 53 grams of actual protein, not “plant-based hope crumbs.”
The fat? 70 grams of it. Good. That’s fuel. That’s flavor. That’s your brain turning the lights back on after 6 hours of Zoom calls and 1.5 breakdowns.
Sodium? 2000mg. Yes, it’s high. That’s because flavor costs courage. You want low sodium?
Go chew on cardboard and cry.
This burger isn’t for the people pretending food is just “fuel.”
It’s for the people who know that mental health starts with satisfaction, and that includes eating something that doesn’t taste like regret.
And if you really care about your numbers?
Good. Sonic doesn’t hide theirs like half the fast-food industry does behind watered-down wraps and lies.
There’s a Sonic nutrition menu for the public. Transparent. Detailed. No secrets. No filters. No hiding.
Because when your food is this real, you don’t need disguise.
You just need appetite and the guts to enjoy it.
Nutrition Facts
| Nutritional Values | Regular |
| Total Calories | 1070 |
| Total Fat (g) | 70 |
| Cholesterol (mg) | 150 |
| Sodium (mg) | 2000 |
| Carbs (g) | 54 |
| Dietary Fiber (g) | 2 |
| Sugar (g) | 12 |
| Protein (g) | 53 |
Modify It Like You’ve Got Beef with Boredom
Why stop at brilliance when you can hijack it and make it yours?
The SuperSONIC Double Cheeseburger isn’t some sacred artifact that can’t be touched. It’s a weaponized canvas. A beef-driven playground. An open-source experience for the flavor-obsessed anarchist in you.
Want extra cheese? Double it. Smother that thing like it owes you rent.
Want jalapeños? Good, spice is just truth in heat form.
Add bacon? You’re damn right you should. Because rules don’t live here, and restraint is for people who eat with tweezers.
You think lettuce is enough? Swap that for onion rings and watch society collapse in awe.
Crave crunch? Toss in tots. Yes, inside the burger. You’re not in church, this is Sonic. And this burger is your sermon.
You want sauces? Drag it through the full spectrum, BBQ, mayo, ranch, even honey mustard if you’re feeling unhinged.
Drip it until it’s unrecognizable. Until it’s so custom it should come with your name engraved on the bun.
And if you’ve got zero self-control (which, let’s be honest, is the only right way to eat), you need to check out the list of Sonic secret menu items.
These aren’t rumors.
They’re battle-tested inventions by flavor renegades.
Fan-engineered, gut-approved, totally unhinged
Burgers stacked, sauces fused, toppings redefined.
Customization here isn’t just encouraged, it’s inevitable.
At Sonic, restrictions are dead. The only limit is how far you’re willing to push your taste buds before they file a formal complaint.
And they will.
But they’ll thank you first.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is the SuperSONIC Double Cheeseburger vegan?
Only if you believe cows are plants. This burger contains real beef, real cheese, and real dairy emotions, all stacked between two buns that never met a kale leaf. If you’re looking for vegan options, good news: we’ve created a sugar-free, low-carb, gluten-free, dairy-free, and allergen-free menu just for that. But this beast? This burger? It came out swinging with a steak in both hands.
Is it safe for foodies with gluten sensitivity?
Not unless you like danger toasted golden-brown. The bun alone is a gluten heavyweight, and it makes no apologies for that. Want to stay safe and still taste power? Check the gluten-free menu we’ve built for warriors who want to eat smart and live long. This one isn’t it, but we’ve got your back.
Can I eat it if I have any food allergies?
Depends. Are you allergic to flavor? Because this burger is fully loaded with dairy, gluten, and ingredients that were made to punch boredom in the throat. If you need full transparency, we created a dedicated allergen-free menu where everything is labeled, safe, and still delicious, just not violently cheesy.
Is it dairy-free?
About as dairy-free as a milkshake having a panic attack. Two slices of molten American cheese are holding this burger hostage, and they aren’t going anywhere. For the dairy-dodgers among us, we’ve got a dairy-free menu that skips the lactose but not the flavor. This burger, though? It’s lactose-loaded and proud.
Can I order it in a lettuce wrap?
Yes. You absolutely can strip it down and swaddle it in lettuce like it’s headed to a CrossFit potluck. Ask for the lettuce wrap and walk away knowing you just turned a beast into a tactical low-carb weapon.
Pro tip: check the low-carb menu if you want to keep the fire without the fallout.
Any discount on this behemoth?
Right now? No. This burger knows its worth and refuses to participate in Black Friday behavior. But stay sharp, Sonic’s app and website occasionally drop discounts like surprise blessings from the Flavor Gods. Keep your eyes open. Deals happen. Legends wait.
Is it a good option for post-workout?
If your workout was fighting a bear or dragging a car uphill barefoot, yes.
With 53g of protein, it’s basically a meat-based protein shake with trauma.
Will your trainer approve? Probably not.
Will your soul say thank you? Loudly.
Is it available at all locations?
Yes. This isn’t a secret menu item. This is frontline artillery, and it’s available every single day, from open to close, in every Sonic location across the land. No guesswork. No excuses. If the store’s open, the burger’s waiting.
Is it a kid-friendly option?
Only if your kid plays rugby and pays taxes. This thing’s stacked with rage, cheese, and calories, and it doesn’t scale down politely. For the smaller appetites, Sonic kids menu has options that won’t require jaw surgery. But if your kid wants to conquer a mountain between buns? Respect.
Sonic Drive-In Access and Support
Official Links
Official Social Media Accounts
Contact Information
Address
300 Johnny Bench Drive, Oklahoma City, OK 73104
Contact Number
(405) 225-5000
Conclusion
You weren’t born for bland.
You weren’t put on this planet to count almonds, sip disappointment, and pretend joy comes from chia seeds and willpower.
You were built to feel. To bite. To live loud.
The Super SONIC Double Cheeseburger isn’t a meal, it’s a declaration that you still give a damn about taste, power, and presence. It’s 1070 calories of rebellion against everything dry, overpriced, and flavorless that’s ever wasted your time.
At $7.29, it flips off overhyped chains and hands you beef, cheese, and clarity—no theatrics, no frills, just real food that doesn’t flinch.
Every bite is a return to your appetite’s self-respect.
You want health? Own your cravings.
You want value? Demand flavor with receipts.
You want freedom? Customize this beast until it cries uncle.
And if you still need proof?
Dig into the Sonic nutrition menu and the secret hacks fans crafted in wild hunger-fueled genius.
The truth is simple:
The SuperSONIC Double Cheeseburger doesn’t beg for your approval.
It dares you to remember what food’s supposed to feel like.
Taste. Crunch. Fire. Guiltless satisfaction.
Now choose: eat safe and stay silent… Or bite bold and feel alive again.
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