Last night I attempted to eat ten Taco Bell tacos. Was it a taco fiesta or a taco fiasco?
Let’s find out.
First we went to Blockbuster, so I’d have something to watch while I was cramming those tacos down.
Probably not the best selection I could make…
Next we went to our neighborhood Taco Bell to pick up our dinner.
Once we got home, I changed into my eating pants (pajamas),
and got my hot sauces ready.
We caught a back episode of Jeopardy.
One of those answers should be “What is Wonder Woman?”. None of them were. Boo!
I got down to business.
Midway, I had to take a break. And then again after tacos 7, 8, 9 and 10.
The last taco almost did me in. The taco shell was soggy and I felt like I was chewing wet paper napkins. Each bite was torture. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t have room, but that I couldn’t stand the taste and texture anymore. God, it was horrible.
But failure wasn’t an option, so I persevered and forced that sucker down.
So now we know:
1) Harry should never doubt me again,
2) I will make myself ill to prove a point and,
3) I will never eat Taco Bell again.
