So I headed down to good ol' Qdoba for lunch
Ordered up the usual: chicken fajita ranchera, extra meat, extra veggies, plus both kinds of beans, a scoop of every kind of salsa, cheese, and sour cream. Which, make no mistake, is quite a hearty burrito to begin with.
You ever go there and get one of those burrito makers who's distracted by something, like talking to someone in the back, and just doesn't seem to realize how much shit they're actually putting in the shell? Well, today was the epitome of that scenario. My eyes were bulging in disbelief... the sheer horror as that burrito moved sluggishly down the line, adding to its tremendous bulk every step of the way, was overwhelming. I could barely speak to the cashier, who, when she saw what was coming, immediately ended a conversation with a coworker mid-sentence and turned a deathly pale.
"Is... will that be all, sir?" she pleaded. I replied that indeed it would be, and we exchanged possession of the monstrosity with shaking hands and uncertain stares.
Needless to say, the eating of this behemoth of a Mexican entrée was quite the experience. Unwrapping the tinfoil at my desk, the thing simply exploded out of its former prison, spraying its guts all over my workspace, as if the meager foil cage had barely been able to contain it. But it still lived, despite the gaping wound, and bellowed a challenge I could not forsake. I'd never met a Qdoba burrito I couldn't defeat in hand-to-hand combat (except for the mighty Signature Breakfast Burrito this one time, but I was still drunk). I went to the break area for a fork and a fistful of napkins. This would prove to be messy.
I took me 40 minutes to finish the damn thing. Coworkers would occasionally walk by and quickly avert their eyes at the site of the gruesome battle. My cube neighbor once peered over our mutual partition to see what could possibly be making those ungodly grunting, slathering noises. My gaze snapped up from the grim feast to meet his, snarling as fresh salsa and cheese shreds dripped from my gaping maw, my crazed eyes begging him to please, kill me now, and end the pain. He could do nothing but recoil in terror. Later, I overheard him whimpering in the bathroom stall. Someone mentioned that maintenance had to have him forcibly removed.
Somehow I managed to finish that mutant burrito, before it stripped away the last vestiges of my humanity. I retain my title of being undefeated by any burrito...
...but at what cost?!?
I will never eat again.