All in all — not a very good idea.
Why?
His room was six floors up.
Upon impact, he was deader than the Macarana.
The other night, after an eternity at the office, I drove to the post office to check for mail. (I’m on the Federal Witness Relocation Program.) It was 10:30 and I realized: I hadn’t had dinner yet. I steered my rumbling 9-miles-to-the-gallon ozone-depleting 4-wheel-drive truck through the drive-through of Del Taco on Lyons.
Sad to say, I’m wannabe 21st century person. Just to fit in, I dine in my truck on the commute home. Sad thing? I work at home.
If you have something other than a chimp’s head resting on your shoulders, it’s not to hard to order something sensible from Del Taco. This fine Hispanic-esque eatery has something I think called a Macho Monster Testosterone Macho Supreme Dictator Macho Death Star Machismo Macho Burrito.
El burrito es muy macho.
It’s the size of a sofa.
You just lug it onto the dashboard console, drape it over the steering wheel and eat it. Or, if you have bench seats, you just strap in the 34 pounds of transfats next to you, turn your head to the right and bite.
They make smaller burritos in the shapes of small, legless dogs. It’s like gnawing a football made of refried beans and cheese.
Most handy to eat while you’re driving.
Did I order Del Taco’s Pancho Villa Memorial Day Burrito, which, by the way, is the actual size of Pancho?
No.
I ordered two shrimp tacos.
I thought they’d be healthier.
And they were. Because I only had 1.3 bites.
Eating shrimp tacos, late at night, while you’re driving a truck — with a stickshift?
All in all — not a very good idea.
Science has proven: The only way to eat a Del Taco shrimp taco and not spill any onto the floor is to place said taco on the floor and eat it, doggie style.
Except for the shrimp, the employees have carefully shredded and lubricated each and every individual part of their brine taco. The shrimp? They attach these little oblong 12-ounce weights to the shrimp so that the deep-fried seafood will come cascading out of the corn tortilla, along with an avalanche of microlettuce, microtomatoes and microcheese, onto your lap and tummy.
You know what’s easier to balance while you’re driving a stickshift?
Try this. Put several hundred BBs on a butter knife along with an orange and try to get that package into your mouth without spilling.
I arrived home hungry.
With a damp, fish-smelling lap.
Which Chico, the Wonderdog, appreciated, when I strolled into the living room.
Eating shrimp tacos while you’re driving?
All in all — not a very good idea.
But, better than bouncing out a 6-story window while you’re pretending to be Jimi Wong Hendrix.
Maybe next time while I’m eating on the road, I’ll just order bouillabaisse.
And a fork.
Although, that, too, all in all — not a very good idea.
John Boston has earned 119 major awards for writing stuff. Besides The Mighty West Ranch Beacon, his work appears in the prestigious thebostonreport.net just about every darn day. His commentaries represent his own opinions and not necessarily the views of any organization he may be affiliated with or those of the West Ranch Beacon. Read Boston’s daily blog, his Daily English Muffins, the Adventures of Job Hunter and more of John Boston’s award-winning commentary on thebostonreport.net