I Am Going To Eat The SHIT Out Of These Tacos

I am going to eat the SHIT out of these tacos.

These tacos, tacos that I made from scratch (if you consider mass produced, store-bought, factory farmed food items “scratch”) are going into my stomach as soon as possible. It would be an insult to these tacos, to their seasoned ground beef interiors and crunchy yellow shells, if I did not eat the SHIT out of them with a hasty disregard for cleanliness and safety lesser men would consider unwise.

The smell of these tacos makes me salivate like I’m Pavlov’s dog and someone just rang the Taco Bell. The meat, cooked in a high-sodium mixture of powdered spice-like derivatives, smells like I always imagined heaven would smell, if heaven were AWESOME. Even the semi-congealed fat dripping out of the cracked bottoms of these crispy tortillas gives me a massive food-boner that can only be cured by the prompt and reckless devouring of these tacos. This meal can end no other way.

The blend of processed cheeses sitting on top of these tacos is driving me crazy. It, too, is coated in a vaguely Mexican-inspired spice-like powder. If I had the time, I would lick each individual shredded piece of cheese in a perverse yet romantic way. IF I had the time, I say, because I only have time to eat the SHIT out of these tacos before I flip out and hurt someone.

If I could look into a mirror, I’m certain my pupils would be dilated from the anticipated euphoria I will get from eating the SHIT out of these tacos. Glistening red bottled taco sauce oozes slowly down through the mound of seasoned beef inside these tacos, quickening my pulse. Whether this stems from my all-consuming desire to ingest these delicious, artificially-flavored, meaty bombs of love, or from the clogging and hardening of my arteries due to years of taco-abuse, only a wiser man than I could say. A wiser man NOT currently engaged in eating the SHIT out of a plate of tacos, that is.

The fresh lettuce and tomatoes I could probably do without. At least they will give me the sense that maybe these saturated fat-laden bombs of laboratory-created flavors are healthful, in some way, as I shovel them into my gaping maw.

And while my ill-advised, rapid chomping of these tacos will likely result in a plate full of scattered shell fragments, oily drippings, and occasional piles of nearly nutrition-free beef, my hunger-lust goes on unabated. In that inevitable event, I will only mash the varied taco detritus together into a makeshift taco salad and eat the SHIT out of that as well.