I think it probably sounded like a guttural animal moan and/or warble, but the noise accompanied by the shaky, “Nooo!” came out of my mouth before I even realized it. I stared in horror at the drive-thru speaker. The words that had just come through sank to the pit of my stomach and settled like a block of ice. Stunned, I silently repeated what he had said. “We don’t carry the cheesy bean and rice burrito anymore.”
Taco Bell. Cheesy bean and rice burrito. This was the burrito that was always there for me on a bad day. The burrito that whispered sweet nothings in my ear before each bite. The burrito that oozed with perfection…every ingredient swirling together into one harmonious, orgasmic bite. And it was only $1.23. For years it was the only thing I had ever consistently ordered at T-Bell. A staple in my boyfriend and I’s diet. So, when 30 minutes prior to this event, he sent me an outrageous text about T-Bell not making it anymore, I just couldn’t believe it…had to see for myself. And here I was, dumbfounded in front of the drive-thru speaker.
“Are you there, Ma’am?” the speaker hurled me back into reality. Shaking my head, I mumbled, “…yeah.”
“I’m sorry about that. Is there something else I can get for you?”
“Do you have anything similar to the CBARB?” I pleaded.
There was a pause, and a glimmer of hope fleeted by. “Well…we can throw in some beans, some rice, some fresco salsa and nacho cheese sauce, and that should be pretty close,” he said.
“Hmmm. How much?”
“Um let’s see…that’d come to $1.73. Is that okay?”
It was close enough. “Yeah, let’s do this!” I said. Tonight, I would pay fifty cents more for my glorious wannabe CBARB.
I was on my way to my boyfriend’s, so I took it over there and waited for him to pull up in the driveway. He had just got off work and gone to Taco Bell on his way home to get dinner. I couldn’t take the suspense anymore and began devouring the burrito in my Jeep. Similar CBARB sensations hit my tongue, and it was nearly identical…but it just felt wrong. I wrapped up the last of it as the boyfriend pulled in. We both got out of our vehicles at the same time and made eye contact. A silent message passed between our heads: Taco Bell, you’re an asshole. We might still come and get a chalupa, but in no way are you forgiven.
Let there be rallies on the streets! Taco Bell, you’re doing it wrong.