Reaching Spiritual Enlightenment Via Taco Bell’s Taco 12-Pack.
Very few mortals have unlocked the true potential of Taco Bell’s taco 12-pack. I can’t blame them for not taking the plunge, as it’s a feast fit only for those worthy of its grease and corn syrup, yet it pays handsomely. I can now see all dimensions and time zones simultaneously, travel faster than the speed of light, properly file my own taxes, and even lick my own elbow. If you, too, have ever wanted to transcend to godhood through fast food consumption, then read on, faithful reader, for this is a record of my own journey towards living mas, taco by taco.
The first taco feels special, like it was delicately prepared and wrapped just for me by the taco gods and not through a series of rote mechanical processes performed by a string of underpaid and exploited fast food workers. Biting into the golden hard shell is like tasting God himself. My journey has just begun.
The second taco is like tasting God twice but with extra fire-roasted hot sauce.
By the third taco, something’s different. I felt a change in the air pressure, a rise in temperature. It started getting cloudy outside. A storm was coming.
As I bit into the warm, salty, Tex-Mex corn shell for the fourth time, I started to question my life’s decisions, chiefly as they concern the series of events that led me to purchasing the Taco Bell taco 12-pack. These thoughts sat in my head as heavily as four cheap tacos sat in my stomach until the deep-fried siren’s call of the Taco Bell taco 12-pack beckoned me once again.
By the fifth taco, I was sweating, my skin felt clammy, and I felt woozy. I could barely stand, but no matter, for my life was now and had always been the Taco Bell taco 12-pack. Nothing else mattered. Live mas caritas est.
By the sixth taco, I had a rising fever of 102 degrees, and my vision was getting blurry. Thunder clapped in the distance. Things were quiet, too quiet. I felt a metamorphosis coming.
Seventh taco: I am become death.
Upon the eighth taco, it started to rain. I lied down on the floor, hands crossed, staring at the ceiling. Visions of the past swirled before my eyes. I saw kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall. I saw beggars and princes and Gods living and dying. I saw dark matter pulling helium and hydrogen together and giving birth to the first stars of the universe. And I saw beyond that, past the Big Bang itself, until there was nothing. Nothing except the Taco King.
As I soldiered on to the ninth taco, my head felt much lighter, my entire body was shaking, and I heard the faint sound of Gregorian chants in the distance. It was raining hard by that point, thunder and lightning shaking the skies. I felt His presence, His holy Taconess.
The tenth taco caused me to perceive time much slower. The individual atoms in my body were humming with eternal energy. I felt one with the molecules around me. My face was encrusted with taco sauce and I went completely blind, but I saw and heard everything.
After the eleventh taco, I shit my lungs out.
As I unwrapped the final taco, golden light and a heavenly chorus bloomed forth, and the Taco King appeared. His appearance is beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. He spoke to me in an ancient tongue and said “Do not ask for whom the Taco Bell tolls, it tolls for thee” and imbued me with His ancient taco energy. I am everything and everyone, forever eternal. In His holy Taco name, I implore thee, live mas.
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