I am pleased to report that at approximately 7:04 p.m. last night, Taco took its first brave, tentative steps into this world, thus beginning:
THE HISTORY OF TACO.
But let’s rewind for a short bit. You may be asking, “Taco? As in, just one?” to which I say “Yes, dear friend. Please see this post in which I consulted an online post topic generator that seemingly held no regard whatsoever for pluralization or basic grammar and syntax.”
Now. Back to THE HISTORY OF TACO.
Taco wasn’t just born, it was made. Made lovingly by human hands. Human hands attached (go with me) to an ever-beating, taco-loving heart. Human hands who slaved diligently away over the stove, painstakingly wiping the sweat from their owner’s brow, knowing that if they just kept going – just found the strength to push through – that there would be Taco for dinner.
Taco came from humble beginnings, nothing more than a collection of iceberg lettuce, a bag of shredded cheese, pre-packaged ground beef, deep-fried tortilla shells in a box and a pile of hopeful pipe dreams. Taco’s unassuming ingredients found themselves in a kitchen, and there was a collective shudder of excitement (ooooer).
It was time to get to work.
The meat browned. The iceberg chopped. The shredded cheese…well, it was already shredded so really it just sat. As did the shells.
And then, ever so slowly, Taco began to form. It started with a simple shell. Then one scoop, no, two – two is better, of browned ground beef. Next came a sprinkling of shredded cheese, and finally – the last step – a light toss of chopped lettuce.
And on the eighth day, God created Taco.
And the Lord saw that it was good.
Peace, love and tacos for everyone.
—The Wife in Training