Dear Angry Man At Taco Bell,
We both find ourselves here under very depressing circumstances. I have clearly diminished my finances to a degree that 79-cent tacos are a considerable boon. Clearly you have never heard of condoms. This is evidenced by the fact that you are feeding your herd of four shirtless children somewhere that will considerably increase their chances of early onset diabetes.
Mother isn’t here, and judging by that mustache I can assume that either you beat her until she moved away or that she is working the afternoon weekday shift at the Larry Flint dance parlor across the bridge.
So here we stand together: I behind you in line and you dissatisfied with the amount of meat on your 79-cent taco.
I’m not sure if you realize that everyone can hear you screaming. Can you feel the pause in everyone’s disgusting daily routine of eating this food? If you can sense that, then I applaud your obvious lack of shame as you scream: “I’m a man. This is a child’s serving of meat,” as you point to the depressing, seemingly colorless, recently purchased fast-food taco.
Yes, you did hear snickering at the back of the store. Yes, I’m almost certain that the minimum-wage earning high school graduate gnawing on her spearmint gum in a cartoonish manner is taking your taco criticism to heart. When she leaves this job and walks to Wendy’s for her second standing eight-hour shift of the day, I’m certain she’ll tell her Wendy’s co-workers what a valid and reasonably argued point you made about improper meat distribution.
In closing, please enjoy the spit in your new tacos — the ones with the right amount of meat (Yes, that also happened).