The Missing Taco Conspiracy (Collaboration With John Gable)
Sept 22, 2013 16:49:10 GMT -5
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Post by Benjamin Atreyu on Sept 22, 2013 16:49:10 GMT -5
(Benjamin Atreyu, John Gable, Seth Dominics)
One of the many things I always missed about the wrestling world, when I went on my hiatuses, was the traveling. This may come as a surprise since so many wrestlers complain about the long trips shoved into vans with many of their cohorts, but being a man of luxury, I traveled on my own with incredibly sparse company. I’ve traversed this great country back and forth so many times that every inch of its great landscape almost seems familiar to me, and when the company makes it way to foreign countries, I spare no expense to experience the many cultures at my disposal. From years of traveling on the road, I have stories that would make Jack Kerouac envious.
While there was nothing particularly special about Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, being the giant waste of space and construction that it is, I was still in high spirits due the fact that I was traveling with good company; one of the few intellectuals who sat on my level in the giant wasteland that was the WCF locker room, John Gable. Having joined S-PAC, I was excited to finally get to pick away at the mind of one of the most interesting wrestlers in the company; one known for using expertly crafted satire to show exactly what was wrong with the world in such a way that a brain-damaged monkey could understand it, but that didn’t stop many, including a large portion of the WCF locker room, from misunderstanding it.
I was hoping that, on this particular road trip, that I would get my chance to examine his intellect to understand what made him tick, but it seemed that my good friend was pleading the fifth. Not like he didn’t want to answer any of my questions. I mean he was not talking in any way, shape, or form, leaving silence to be my only partner on this ride, but no matter the reason for Gable’s vow of silence- I’ve already told you. Huh? Seriously? I told you about this already. I’m protesting. Protesting what? No. I’m not explaining this again. Well, how are you supposed to be protesting? By depriving the world of my magnificent voice, one of the many things about me that they have taken for granted. But there is nobody in the car with us, you couldn’t even talk then? A good performer must always stick to the act until it is over. What about now? This is description, it doesn’t count.
Well either way, as I was saying. Gable’s vow of silence- Protest. Right, protest. Gable’s protest left much to be desired from this particular trip, but it was still early and- Seriously? Is this it? What now? I’m sorry, but another road trip story? Does the world need another one of those, I think those went out of style when Britney Spears was in a movie about one. It’s the ultimate display of culture and diversity within our own little worlds, it shows how vastly different the world can be when you travel across borders. …Its Oklahoma City, they shoot whatever’s different. It’s a matter of maintaining a sense of intellect by writing what makes real life interesting without the petty use of dragons, pulp-ish detectives, or senseless explosions to keep an audience entertained. I get that, really I do, but if I have to hear another one of these boring ‘taken from my life’ stories, I think I might axe murder a family of squirrels in the face. It is the highest point in the pretentious toten pole. Many of the greats have told stories such as these; James Joyce, William Faulkner, Ernest Hem- If you’re the James Joyce of wrestling, that makes me the Kurt Vonnegut, and you know what’s the difference between James Joyce and Kurt Vonnegut? …What? People remember who Kurt Vonnegut is.
…As I was saying, it was a long and winding road- Boring. Are you done? That depends, are we really going to have to listen to a story about you and I traveling along a dirt road for hours on end? It’s a story about the freedom of the open ro- They know what traveling feels like, Benjy! We’ve all done it, unless this ends like Hostel, which I know it won’t since I was there, you literally aren’t going to say anything they haven’t heard. Attercop… What? An Attercop, an old word referring to a spider, originally meaning “poison head”, it was often used as an insult. Okay…What does that have to do with what we are talking about? You said I literally wasn’t going to say anything they haven’t heard before, and I am pretty sure most of the haven’t heard that before. You know what I meant. You said literally. …Fuck you. Would you like to continue this story. Nah, It’s your story, Benjy. Not matter how boring it is. If you want to make sure that no one hears it, that’s your problem. If you keeping butting in, no one is going to hear it in the first place. And I couldn’t be happier to help in those regards.
It was a long winding road- Hey, guys, whatcha doing? GODDAMN IT! Look everyone, its Seth Dominics, how are ya? No, leave, leave now. Doing pretty good, you? I hate you. I want you dead. Doing alright, Benjy was just telling a lame story. So, what have you been up to? I will burn this page to the ground, I swear I will. Ya’know a little of this, a little of that. Was in the army for a while, but I got bored so I left. You…left the army? What did you do while you were there? Does it even fucking matter?!? What was that thing they did in The Hurt Locker? Oh dear god… Bomb squad? Yeah, I was that…Wait, did you say Benjy was telling a story? Why does everyone think its suddenly okay to call my Benjy? My name is Benjamin. Yeah, it was nothing special though. You think I’m joking? I will hold a lighter to the end of this page and it will go up in a glorious fire. I love telling stories, especially ones with dragons, detectives, and senseless explosions. Why am I not surprised? How funny is that? Not funny at all, its actually quite tragic. Benjamin and I were just talking about stories like that. God, I really hope I’m being Punk’d right now, just so I can punch Ashton Kutcher in the face. Does he still host that show? No matter, I’ll probably still find him and punch him in the face for Two and a Half Men and that awful Steve Jobs biopic.
It was a dark and stormy night, we- Whoa whoa whoa, what the fuck are you doing? Telling a story, it’s a really good one too! No, this is my story, we already have a setting, plot, and theme. You can’t barge in now and start telling a different story, that’s not how it works. You are just going to confuse the audience, they can’t handle two stories at the same time. Well, then there is only one way to deal with that. I agree- I vote we hear Seth’s story instead. …Fuck you. Yay, it’s like Christmas, except there’s no Christmas boar and my Uncle Favre isn’t drunk! See Gable, you’ve doomed us all. Quiet, Benjy. I want to hear this story.
This story is called “The Missing Taco Conspiracy…OR O, Where Art Thou, Taco?” Goddamn it, Seth. Benjy, be quiet. I want to hear this story! Fine, but don’t come crying to me when its making your brains melt out your ears. It was a dark and stormy night- Really? BENJY, SHUT…UP! coming up from an endless horizon was the headlights of a single car as it pushed through the treacherous weather and onwards towards its destination. Hah! Road story, I win. Benjy, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to cut off your nose to spite your annoying face. The road was slick, the world was encased in blackness, but that did not deter our heroes from pushing forward into the great unknown.
We have all experienced what it is like to traverse dangerous conditions, becoming the only souls within miles of our own difficulties all for the name of reward; the thrill of the adventures, the height of danger, and finally the light at the end of the tunnel giving you that last push when you are almost sure you are ready to collapse under your own weight. When the venture almost seemed pointless, the golden glow of the treasure our heroes have been searching for finally pierced the dark and lit their way to the end of their travels. Oh, already at the end, I’m liking this story more and more.
They made the turn into the parking lot- Parking lot? -of the Taco Bell. Brilliant! The roar of the engine dies and finally our heroes emerge from their vehicle to reveal their war-torn-faces, Benjy and The Amazing Seth Dominics! Fucking really? Quickly making their way through the rain and into the building, both were elated to find themselves mere steps away from the delicious goodness that was true Mexicana cuisine. I would like it noted that I’ve never been to a Taco Bell, nor would I ever eat anything concocted in that diarrhea infested hellhole. I’ve never stepped into anything less than a Chipotle and that was just to use their bathroom. If I was ever caught in a Taco Bell I would kill myself, which is what I imagine eating one of their tacos is the equivalent of. Benjy, its Seth’s story, he can use whoever he wants and tell it however he pleases. If he said you were at a Taco Bell in this story, then you were at a Taco Bell. Please, continue, Seth.
”I’m glad we are such good friends, Seth. It was a great idea to go get tacos after you beat all those ninjas on a hundred to one battle to the death. By the way, that was the manliest thing I’ve ever seen…not to mention the manliest driving I’ve ever seen as well,” Benjamin gushed as him and Seth approached the front counter of the fine establishment. I don’t gush…
”Don’t mention it,” Seth replied, “I mean it. You know how sensitive my secret agent work for the government is. Enemies could be lurking anywhere, and if they heard that it was I, Seth “Captain Badass of the Badass division of the Kick Ass Patrol Officially Sanctioned by the Government” Dominics, who knows what kind of chaos could ensue.” Seth’ eyes darted around to scan for any possible enemies hiding in the Taco Bell, but as his amazing Spidey senses couldn’t pick anything up, he felt at ease to finally order his meal.
“Anything I can get you two fine gentlemen,” the individual working at the front counter spoke, “and may I just say that you are looking incredibly awesome today, Seth.” Seth nodded back at the cashier in agreement. Wait, how does some random cashier at a fast food restaurant know who Seth is? If you’d be quiet, you might just find out. So sush! A year before hand, Seth had been walking down a random sidewalk after his daily fight-to-the-death with ninjas from the shadow clan when he came upon an apartment building going up in flames. Without hesitation he leaped into the burning building and rescued the fast-food worker who had been trapped under a collapsed beam. From then on, the man owed Seth his life, but little to Seth’s knowledge, even now as he ordered food from this young man, that the cashier would grow up to be the famous song-writer and musician, Johnny Cash. Yeah, it turned out “Ring of Fire” was really about Seth Dominics and the courageous act of heroism. That doesn’t even make any sense. Shhh! Let the man tell his story.
”Your grande meal, kind sir. All tacos,” Seth replied, giving his famous ‘I’m a total badass’ smile.
“Good choice, sir. Don’t worry this one is on the house,” the young man said before punching in their order, “your meal should be up in a moment.” Seth nodded appreciatively before him and his best-friend-forever Benjy found their table, discussing the man philosophies of the world, well, more Seth talking about them and Benjy listening in absolute awe of his badass friend. The world seemed as ease; no ninjas trying to kill them, no evil anti-american spies trying to coerce secrets from them, and definitely no deadly tacos… Is he foreshadowing, I can’t tell, I really can’t. or that’s what they thought! Shit…
Little did our heroes know, in the kitchen the only thing that was cooking was a meal…of death! It turns out that the young Johnny Cash wasn’t their friend at all, but instead a secret KGB spy sent to kill the amazing Seth Dominics. It had taken months; setting his own apartment on fire, getting the job at Taco Bell, setting his availability to the most common times Seth is known to appear at a Taco Bell, and then waiting for as long as it would take for the odds to flip in his favor. ‘It was all worth it’ he thought as he assembled their meal, placing nine regular tacos on the tray and one ultra-deadly Ninja Taco on top. When unwrapped, the taco would activate and use its deadly ninja abilities to kill Benjy and coerce secrets out of Seth and once he obtained all of the secrets he could, he would then kill Seth and the Germans would go on to rule the world! Okay, first off, KGB is Russia, not Germany…second off…fucking really? You are being quite a negative nelly today…
“And that’ why the Roman Empire collapsed in on itself. If Palpatine only understood that Vader could not be controlled forever, who knows who would be the major world power right now,” Seth spoke thusly.
“Oh wow, Seth. You’re so smart. When I grow up, I want to be just like you,” Benjy replied. I’m three years older than you…
”Your order is up, Mr. Dominics,” Johnny Cash called out. Seth got up from his table and picked up their order, “I hope you enjoy it…it might be your last.”
“What did you say, good ole’ Johnny,” Seth asked.
“Oh, nothing, just working on another song…even though I don’t think I’ll ever make it in the music industry…”
“Don’t be like that Johnny, you’ve got the talent to make it anywhere. Just believe in yourself and I’m sure you’ll be as famous as your ole’ buddy, Seth. It’s all about what’s in your heart, if you can use what’s inside you, no one will ever stop you!”
“You really think so…do ya?”
“Of course I do, Johnny!” And at that moment, something changed inside Johnny, no one can say for sure, but many think his heart grew three sized that day. He looked at that deadly ninja taco and realized that he was fighting for the wrong team, that America was truly the great country on the planet, where people can get famous singing rock ‘n’ roll songs about going to prison, where burgers made by underpaid workers costs only a dollar, and where people like Honey Boo-boo can live as she wishes and become a star; yes, this was truly God’s country! Before Seth could take the food, Johnny snatched the deadly ninja taco while Seth wasn’t looking, saving Seth from almost certain doom. He knew what he did was wrong and that he needed to confess what he did, but he couldn’t do it in front of the man he admired so much. He planned to turn himself in as soon as Seth left and face the necessary for his crimes. Who knows, maybe he could take the experience of being in prison and use it for inspiration for him music career.
Seth took the tray of nine tacos and sat back down at his table, across from Benjy, where they proceeded to dine like kings, enjoying the delicious delicacies that drew people from miles away to this very restaurant. The meat was so succulent; the subtlety of the man seasonings and spices filling the mouth to capacity. The tacos were so delicious that the world seemed to melt away and was replaced with pure ecstasy, the two men quenching their hunger with food fit for a god.
No, I can’t do this. I’m not going to listen as you describe how ‘good’ shitty fast food tacos are. I still need to tell my story. We are four pages in and I haven’t even gotten close to the trash talking piece yet. I have to talk about how I don’t even know who Cormac McNeill, Jon Michaels, and Seifer Black Armstrong are. Logan, Oblivion, and Jordan Caliban are going to take up at least two paragraphs a piece as I just thoroughly lay out every reason they have no chance of beating S-PAC. Then of course mentioning how useless Night Rider, Odin Balfore, and Deuce Maximus are altogether, even if they were fused Dragon Ball Z-style into a super wrestler, they would still have no shot. Then lastly, I’d have to spend a good deal of time talking about how Nathan, Jakobs, and Steeltoe are possibly the most bass-ackwards pairing I have ever seen in my entire career, not only as a wrestler, but as a fan of wrestling.
Don’t you ever get tired of that? Week-in and week-out, trying to think of new and creative ways to make fun and insult these people; it is just exhausting after a point. Eventually, all that’s left is making fun of how big their noses are or how badly they filled out their tax-forms. It’s not rewarding either, what am I supposed to get out of calling Odin a past-his-prime piece of dead weight pulling, not only his team, but this whole company down with him? Does it make me a better wrestler? Does it make him worse than he already is? It’s not like anyone cares what you say, they probably never hear it in the first place. They just keep going on their marry way, thinking they are king shit. They don’t change, they don’t develop, they are just the same boring and cheap wrestlers they have always been and the crowd will keep eating it up until something different comes along.
That’s the problem, something new has come along and people haven’t noticed it. You and I have tried our best to bring something new to this industry and guess what they keep doing? Making the same, generic, shallow, skin-deep insults they’ve been making for years. If no one is even going to notice when something different is put right in front of their goddamn faces, why should I attempt to do something new? Might as well do the ole’ in-and-out. Go in, make fun of their mothers, tell them to suck a dick, and then leave so I can enjoy the rest of my week. I mean, Zombie McMorris has been doing it for years, hell, he stole a stupid meme from the internet and people loved it. Does it matter that he is a better competitor? Fuck no. Does it matter that he puts no effort into his in-ring performance? Fuck no. I rather be the one that gave up than be the king of the shit pile.
Then why the fuck did you come back if you knew you were just going to do the same shit again and again? I mean, you could have just stayed home, spat out some snarky comment every once in a while and then go on without the worry of competing against these fucking hacks. You could have done all that, but you came back for a reason. I’ve always had my reasons, legit ones that have kept me going this long, but all I ever hear from you is the same crying and bitching about how the world isn’t fair, how idiots are keeping you down, and hell, I do that all the time, but at least I’m doing it in a new way, but you are still the same boring, rich, self-loathing Benjamin Atreyu that stepped into this company some time ago. So, please, please tell me why you came back? I mean listen to the drivel you just spouted out about each wrestler in our upcoming match. It was boring, it was a mess, it was shallow, and it didn’t say anything that they haven’t been saying about each other for forever-
Because I don’t know what else to do! Every time I leave, I think, “that’s it, I’m fucking done”, but after a couple months, that urge to come back creeps up on me. It twists my stomach into knots, it tears me to pieces, it keeps me up at night to the point that I’ll start drifting during meetings and important company functions. I’m supposed to be the face of my company, but all I can think about is bringing a steel chair over the head of some strange. It fills every thought; scoop slams, suplexes, broken tables, bent ladders, violent outbursts, and it all piles up until I can’t take it anymore. I CAN’T leave this place. I wish I could, but I can’t. So, no matter how tired of it all I become, I can’t stay away, it makes me physically ill to not be a wrestler. It’s this compulsion I need to fulfill and if I don’t it breaks me down. It doesn’t even matter if I win anymore, it doesn’t matter if I have to spout the most generic crap I can think of, it’s my addiction to wrestling. It sounds stupid, I know it does, but it’s true. I thought joining S-PAC might guarantee that I could change something at least, if I HAD to be here, but I just can’t pull anything together, everything I say or do is just the same crap as always.
Oh boo hoo, I’m so fucking sad because I can’t be original. I was once one of the most dominant wrestlers in this company, but now I’ve been reduced to a sniveling pile of shit, because the world doesn’t love me enough. If you don’t fucking man up, that’s going to be your legacy. Your problem is the world has become so stagnant around you that you are becoming stagnant. You look at this as a routine instead of a challenge. So you don’t deviate from the template that’s been put before you, you just fill in the blank spots and send in the form like you always have. Einstein said that insane was repeating the same experiment multiple times and expecting the different results. Well here is the result, you lost, get over it and try again. Make all the superficial changes you want, but you’ll always know that they are superficial. If you want those ignorant sycophant to learn anything, you have to start changing your perspective radically. Experiment, look at the world in a new light, stretch concepts and ideas until they are unrecognizable. You can do as you please, its all art in the end, but don’t you EVER look at your feet an figure doing the same thing is good enough, because that’s the bullshit that the roster buys, and they can buy it all they wants, but that’s why we are in S-PAC, because it wasn’t good enough, it wasn’t even close.
Um…guys?
…So what do I do, then?...
You stop excepting what is typical, stop trying to pry into the same ole’ tropes and start experiencing something different, because that’s what made us the minds we are today and once the ground around us is too familiar, we find new ground to tread.
Uh…I’m still here you know…
…
You know what I am saying is true.
…
Ya’know, if you guys are in the middle of something important, I can leave…
Wait…
Huh?
…Sit your ass right back down and tell us more of that crazy fucking taco story.
Shweetnuggets!
Did he just say ‘shweetnuggets’?
Okay, so where was I? Oh right…As our heroes were enjoying their meal, Seth noticed something incredibly suspicious. “Hmm? It appears one of our tacos are missing,” he said, but what he didn’t know is that taco was being disposed of by Mr. Cash at that particular moment, in the only way he knew how…by throwing it out into the rain! He chucked it out the back booth window as hard as he good, ensuring that the dangerous ninja taco could not hurt anyone, but what will happen next in this story might…just…astound you! See, the raise soaked through the wrapper and into the killer taco, shorting out is circuit and causing it to reboot, wiping its programing clean. Its knowledge of ninjistu, all of its targets, and its mission were completely wiped from memory, leaving it as a blank canvas waiting to be opened to experience the world anew. A brand new start for something that was once meant to kill.
But what the taco didn’t know- Seems to be a popular phrase in this story. -was that a bird was closely circling overhead, watching the abandoned taco as it waited for the right moment. Eventually, it swooped down and picked up the taco with its strong talons, carrying it off into the distance as it hoped to use it as sustenance for its family, but little did the bird know- See, there it is again. -that instead of making its way into its stomach, the taco would make its way into its heart. Aww.
With every intention of eating the taco as soon as it got back to its nest, it didn’t notice that the wrapper it was in was slowly unwrapping with every flap of the bird’s wings. When the bird finally reached it nest, the taco’s wrapper finally came fully undone, sending the taco crashing into the nest.
“Sweeties,” the bird called out to its babies, “see what I brought home to you.” Wait, is it a talking bird or is it just talking in bird language? Don’t question it, just accept it.
but as the baby birds peeked over at the new food, they saw it begin to stir. The birds began to panic as the once dead thing seemed to be springing to life right before their very eyes. “Mommy mommy!” the birds cried out in unison, “it’s moving!”
The taco slowly powered on and got to its feet. So, it has feet? Yeah, how else would it use its ninjitsu skills to kill you? It looked around, confused and startled, unsure where it was or what it was doing. The mother bird looked on in horror as the thing it had snatched from a taco bell parking lot stood up. What was it to do? She couldn’t kill it in front of her children, she couldn’t just take it back to the parking lot, and she definitely couldn’t eat it now that she knew it was alive, so she did the one thing she had to do, accept it into its family. The more I hear from the story, the more confused I become. It’s a story, deal with it. Even fiction has logic. You didn’t like children’s books as a kid, did you? Clifford the big red dog was a metaphor for the far reaching grasp of communism and Brave Little Toast might as well been called “Yay Slavery”, so no, I didn’t.
The bird raised the taco in its own mysterious bird ways, letting it believe it was a bird and never telling it about where it truly came from. Eventually, the mother bird found it fit to begin teaching it the martial art style of the winged family, so that it could defend itself whenever trouble decided to rear its ugly head. Wait, what? Bird-Fu. So, it’s basically a mix of The Jerk, The Ugly Duckling, and The 36th Chamber of Shaolin? The story is very Tarantino-esque, if you ask me.
The other birds made fun of the taco, making it feel alienated from the rest of the birds, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t stop trying, studying the martial arts every day, doing its best to be the best bird it could be, but one day the mother bird, when it felt the taco was old enough, decided to tell the taco the truth about where it was truly from.
“Y-you mean…I’m not a bird like you?” the taco began to tear up as it heard the truth, “b-but, then what am I?”
“You are a different majestic creature, my son,” the mother bird replied, “you are a taco.”
“T-taco?”
“Yes, and it is time that I let you go so you can find your own way in life. A bird’s life is no life for you, but I can only hope what you learned here will help you through your days and achieve a truly fulfilling life.”
The taco was conflicted; it didn’t want to leave its home, but it knew that what the mother bird was saying was true and that he would never truly be happy in the realm of the winged ones. So he said good-bye to the only mother he ever truly had and set off for the big city, where all dreams came true.
It was a hard life; the taco took up a job in construction, making ends meet by working overtime just to keep a roof over its head, but then the economy collapsed, people everywhere began to lose their jobs, including the taco, forcing him into the streets where he fought for food and survival every day. On a particularly cold winter’s night the taco was going its best to keep warm on a park bench, but he could feel the cold slowly solidifying its grease until everything started to fade to black, he wasn’t ready to say good-bye to the world, but he was too tired to fight the end. Oh, sad ending…nice. Shhh.
But little did the taco know- And there it is again. That there was an angel looking after him that day and the taco was taken in by a kind man, where he was nursed back to health, who could this man have been? Was it you? Only someone with a heart of gold- It was you, wasn’t it? -could have been so kind as to take that starving taco into its home. It was you, I know it. Dear listener, it was the amazing Seth Dominics. Called it! Over time, the taco had a strange feeling that he had seen Seth before, but did not question it due to Seth’s unending kindness and humility. For years, they lived together in harmony, becoming best of friends, helping each other through highs and lows, and the taco even made Seth his best man at his wedding, a title that Seth was more than happy to take, and not just because it had “best” in it. But little did either of them know… Really? That a simple utterance would destroy their friendship.
“Oh, well, I’m off taco,” Seth said as he was getting ready to leave.
“Where are you going?” the taco asked.
“Oh, just some secret government stuff, got to stop the KGB, all that jazz.” Then suddenly, as if it was all knocked loose by a hammer of words, the taco began to remember its past. The mission, his training, his targets.
“Seth…”
“Yeah?” Seth replied as he looked over at the taco to see it in fighting stance, tears rolling down its eyes.
“I-it is my job…to-to…kill you.”
“But…why?”
“I was designed by the KGB to be the ultimate killing Taco, but due to a strange chain of events, my memory was wiped clean and when I saw you, I had no idea who you were, but I remember everything now…I must kill you.”
“So, if it must be so…” Seth switched into fighting stance, the tension mounting, their nerves shaken as these two best friends were forced to fight each other…to the death. Seth had fought thousands, hell, even millions of ninjas to the death, but never had he ever been forced to fight one he had known to be his…friend. Oh, for Christ sake…
Finally, the taco made the first move and the fight that commenced could only be described as awesome. It was of such magnitude that any attempt to speak it aloud would fail to give it just. Booo, cheap! Shut up, Benjy! Eventually, Seth was knocked back into a corner and the taco slowly approached.
“So, this is it,” Seth said solemnly.
“I guess so,” the taco replied unable to look his friend in the face.
“One of us will have to die…”
“That’s just the way it is.”
Seth made a last move out of desperation, picking out the taco’s weak spot and attacking it with a strong thrust, his fingers pointed out, digging into and ripping the taco’s soft shell. Meat began to pour forth and the taco fell to his knees, aware that his last remaining moments were brief, he looked over at Seth and used his last breath to speak.
“I…I’m glad…if…if only one of us could walk away…that…that it was you.” Seth dove and held the taco as it fell, “Will…I…dream?” and with that, the taco took its last breath and said goodbye to this world.
“TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Really? Is that how it ends, he kills the taco? Really? Gable, can you…Dude, are you fucking crying? Of course I’m fucking crying, that was a beautiful story…the taco…really DID work its way into your heart… If you like that, you’ll love my other ‘Seth and Benjy’ Fan-fics. Oh, please yes, tell us another one. Okay how about this “Seth Joins the Kumate…OR Where is my Hair Brush”…the year was 1943. Yeah, no, I’m gonna stop you there.(End)
One of the many things I always missed about the wrestling world, when I went on my hiatuses, was the traveling. This may come as a surprise since so many wrestlers complain about the long trips shoved into vans with many of their cohorts, but being a man of luxury, I traveled on my own with incredibly sparse company. I’ve traversed this great country back and forth so many times that every inch of its great landscape almost seems familiar to me, and when the company makes it way to foreign countries, I spare no expense to experience the many cultures at my disposal. From years of traveling on the road, I have stories that would make Jack Kerouac envious.
While there was nothing particularly special about Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, being the giant waste of space and construction that it is, I was still in high spirits due the fact that I was traveling with good company; one of the few intellectuals who sat on my level in the giant wasteland that was the WCF locker room, John Gable. Having joined S-PAC, I was excited to finally get to pick away at the mind of one of the most interesting wrestlers in the company; one known for using expertly crafted satire to show exactly what was wrong with the world in such a way that a brain-damaged monkey could understand it, but that didn’t stop many, including a large portion of the WCF locker room, from misunderstanding it.
I was hoping that, on this particular road trip, that I would get my chance to examine his intellect to understand what made him tick, but it seemed that my good friend was pleading the fifth. Not like he didn’t want to answer any of my questions. I mean he was not talking in any way, shape, or form, leaving silence to be my only partner on this ride, but no matter the reason for Gable’s vow of silence- I’ve already told you. Huh? Seriously? I told you about this already. I’m protesting. Protesting what? No. I’m not explaining this again. Well, how are you supposed to be protesting? By depriving the world of my magnificent voice, one of the many things about me that they have taken for granted. But there is nobody in the car with us, you couldn’t even talk then? A good performer must always stick to the act until it is over. What about now? This is description, it doesn’t count.
Well either way, as I was saying. Gable’s vow of silence- Protest. Right, protest. Gable’s protest left much to be desired from this particular trip, but it was still early and- Seriously? Is this it? What now? I’m sorry, but another road trip story? Does the world need another one of those, I think those went out of style when Britney Spears was in a movie about one. It’s the ultimate display of culture and diversity within our own little worlds, it shows how vastly different the world can be when you travel across borders. …Its Oklahoma City, they shoot whatever’s different. It’s a matter of maintaining a sense of intellect by writing what makes real life interesting without the petty use of dragons, pulp-ish detectives, or senseless explosions to keep an audience entertained. I get that, really I do, but if I have to hear another one of these boring ‘taken from my life’ stories, I think I might axe murder a family of squirrels in the face. It is the highest point in the pretentious toten pole. Many of the greats have told stories such as these; James Joyce, William Faulkner, Ernest Hem- If you’re the James Joyce of wrestling, that makes me the Kurt Vonnegut, and you know what’s the difference between James Joyce and Kurt Vonnegut? …What? People remember who Kurt Vonnegut is.
…As I was saying, it was a long and winding road- Boring. Are you done? That depends, are we really going to have to listen to a story about you and I traveling along a dirt road for hours on end? It’s a story about the freedom of the open ro- They know what traveling feels like, Benjy! We’ve all done it, unless this ends like Hostel, which I know it won’t since I was there, you literally aren’t going to say anything they haven’t heard. Attercop… What? An Attercop, an old word referring to a spider, originally meaning “poison head”, it was often used as an insult. Okay…What does that have to do with what we are talking about? You said I literally wasn’t going to say anything they haven’t heard before, and I am pretty sure most of the haven’t heard that before. You know what I meant. You said literally. …Fuck you. Would you like to continue this story. Nah, It’s your story, Benjy. Not matter how boring it is. If you want to make sure that no one hears it, that’s your problem. If you keeping butting in, no one is going to hear it in the first place. And I couldn’t be happier to help in those regards.
It was a long winding road- Hey, guys, whatcha doing? GODDAMN IT! Look everyone, its Seth Dominics, how are ya? No, leave, leave now. Doing pretty good, you? I hate you. I want you dead. Doing alright, Benjy was just telling a lame story. So, what have you been up to? I will burn this page to the ground, I swear I will. Ya’know a little of this, a little of that. Was in the army for a while, but I got bored so I left. You…left the army? What did you do while you were there? Does it even fucking matter?!? What was that thing they did in The Hurt Locker? Oh dear god… Bomb squad? Yeah, I was that…Wait, did you say Benjy was telling a story? Why does everyone think its suddenly okay to call my Benjy? My name is Benjamin. Yeah, it was nothing special though. You think I’m joking? I will hold a lighter to the end of this page and it will go up in a glorious fire. I love telling stories, especially ones with dragons, detectives, and senseless explosions. Why am I not surprised? How funny is that? Not funny at all, its actually quite tragic. Benjamin and I were just talking about stories like that. God, I really hope I’m being Punk’d right now, just so I can punch Ashton Kutcher in the face. Does he still host that show? No matter, I’ll probably still find him and punch him in the face for Two and a Half Men and that awful Steve Jobs biopic.
It was a dark and stormy night, we- Whoa whoa whoa, what the fuck are you doing? Telling a story, it’s a really good one too! No, this is my story, we already have a setting, plot, and theme. You can’t barge in now and start telling a different story, that’s not how it works. You are just going to confuse the audience, they can’t handle two stories at the same time. Well, then there is only one way to deal with that. I agree- I vote we hear Seth’s story instead. …Fuck you. Yay, it’s like Christmas, except there’s no Christmas boar and my Uncle Favre isn’t drunk! See Gable, you’ve doomed us all. Quiet, Benjy. I want to hear this story.
This story is called “The Missing Taco Conspiracy…OR O, Where Art Thou, Taco?” Goddamn it, Seth. Benjy, be quiet. I want to hear this story! Fine, but don’t come crying to me when its making your brains melt out your ears. It was a dark and stormy night- Really? BENJY, SHUT…UP! coming up from an endless horizon was the headlights of a single car as it pushed through the treacherous weather and onwards towards its destination. Hah! Road story, I win. Benjy, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to cut off your nose to spite your annoying face. The road was slick, the world was encased in blackness, but that did not deter our heroes from pushing forward into the great unknown.
We have all experienced what it is like to traverse dangerous conditions, becoming the only souls within miles of our own difficulties all for the name of reward; the thrill of the adventures, the height of danger, and finally the light at the end of the tunnel giving you that last push when you are almost sure you are ready to collapse under your own weight. When the venture almost seemed pointless, the golden glow of the treasure our heroes have been searching for finally pierced the dark and lit their way to the end of their travels. Oh, already at the end, I’m liking this story more and more.
They made the turn into the parking lot- Parking lot? -of the Taco Bell. Brilliant! The roar of the engine dies and finally our heroes emerge from their vehicle to reveal their war-torn-faces, Benjy and The Amazing Seth Dominics! Fucking really? Quickly making their way through the rain and into the building, both were elated to find themselves mere steps away from the delicious goodness that was true Mexicana cuisine. I would like it noted that I’ve never been to a Taco Bell, nor would I ever eat anything concocted in that diarrhea infested hellhole. I’ve never stepped into anything less than a Chipotle and that was just to use their bathroom. If I was ever caught in a Taco Bell I would kill myself, which is what I imagine eating one of their tacos is the equivalent of. Benjy, its Seth’s story, he can use whoever he wants and tell it however he pleases. If he said you were at a Taco Bell in this story, then you were at a Taco Bell. Please, continue, Seth.
”I’m glad we are such good friends, Seth. It was a great idea to go get tacos after you beat all those ninjas on a hundred to one battle to the death. By the way, that was the manliest thing I’ve ever seen…not to mention the manliest driving I’ve ever seen as well,” Benjamin gushed as him and Seth approached the front counter of the fine establishment. I don’t gush…
”Don’t mention it,” Seth replied, “I mean it. You know how sensitive my secret agent work for the government is. Enemies could be lurking anywhere, and if they heard that it was I, Seth “Captain Badass of the Badass division of the Kick Ass Patrol Officially Sanctioned by the Government” Dominics, who knows what kind of chaos could ensue.” Seth’ eyes darted around to scan for any possible enemies hiding in the Taco Bell, but as his amazing Spidey senses couldn’t pick anything up, he felt at ease to finally order his meal.
“Anything I can get you two fine gentlemen,” the individual working at the front counter spoke, “and may I just say that you are looking incredibly awesome today, Seth.” Seth nodded back at the cashier in agreement. Wait, how does some random cashier at a fast food restaurant know who Seth is? If you’d be quiet, you might just find out. So sush! A year before hand, Seth had been walking down a random sidewalk after his daily fight-to-the-death with ninjas from the shadow clan when he came upon an apartment building going up in flames. Without hesitation he leaped into the burning building and rescued the fast-food worker who had been trapped under a collapsed beam. From then on, the man owed Seth his life, but little to Seth’s knowledge, even now as he ordered food from this young man, that the cashier would grow up to be the famous song-writer and musician, Johnny Cash. Yeah, it turned out “Ring of Fire” was really about Seth Dominics and the courageous act of heroism. That doesn’t even make any sense. Shhh! Let the man tell his story.
”Your grande meal, kind sir. All tacos,” Seth replied, giving his famous ‘I’m a total badass’ smile.
“Good choice, sir. Don’t worry this one is on the house,” the young man said before punching in their order, “your meal should be up in a moment.” Seth nodded appreciatively before him and his best-friend-forever Benjy found their table, discussing the man philosophies of the world, well, more Seth talking about them and Benjy listening in absolute awe of his badass friend. The world seemed as ease; no ninjas trying to kill them, no evil anti-american spies trying to coerce secrets from them, and definitely no deadly tacos… Is he foreshadowing, I can’t tell, I really can’t. or that’s what they thought! Shit…
Little did our heroes know, in the kitchen the only thing that was cooking was a meal…of death! It turns out that the young Johnny Cash wasn’t their friend at all, but instead a secret KGB spy sent to kill the amazing Seth Dominics. It had taken months; setting his own apartment on fire, getting the job at Taco Bell, setting his availability to the most common times Seth is known to appear at a Taco Bell, and then waiting for as long as it would take for the odds to flip in his favor. ‘It was all worth it’ he thought as he assembled their meal, placing nine regular tacos on the tray and one ultra-deadly Ninja Taco on top. When unwrapped, the taco would activate and use its deadly ninja abilities to kill Benjy and coerce secrets out of Seth and once he obtained all of the secrets he could, he would then kill Seth and the Germans would go on to rule the world! Okay, first off, KGB is Russia, not Germany…second off…fucking really? You are being quite a negative nelly today…
“And that’ why the Roman Empire collapsed in on itself. If Palpatine only understood that Vader could not be controlled forever, who knows who would be the major world power right now,” Seth spoke thusly.
“Oh wow, Seth. You’re so smart. When I grow up, I want to be just like you,” Benjy replied. I’m three years older than you…
”Your order is up, Mr. Dominics,” Johnny Cash called out. Seth got up from his table and picked up their order, “I hope you enjoy it…it might be your last.”
“What did you say, good ole’ Johnny,” Seth asked.
“Oh, nothing, just working on another song…even though I don’t think I’ll ever make it in the music industry…”
“Don’t be like that Johnny, you’ve got the talent to make it anywhere. Just believe in yourself and I’m sure you’ll be as famous as your ole’ buddy, Seth. It’s all about what’s in your heart, if you can use what’s inside you, no one will ever stop you!”
“You really think so…do ya?”
“Of course I do, Johnny!” And at that moment, something changed inside Johnny, no one can say for sure, but many think his heart grew three sized that day. He looked at that deadly ninja taco and realized that he was fighting for the wrong team, that America was truly the great country on the planet, where people can get famous singing rock ‘n’ roll songs about going to prison, where burgers made by underpaid workers costs only a dollar, and where people like Honey Boo-boo can live as she wishes and become a star; yes, this was truly God’s country! Before Seth could take the food, Johnny snatched the deadly ninja taco while Seth wasn’t looking, saving Seth from almost certain doom. He knew what he did was wrong and that he needed to confess what he did, but he couldn’t do it in front of the man he admired so much. He planned to turn himself in as soon as Seth left and face the necessary for his crimes. Who knows, maybe he could take the experience of being in prison and use it for inspiration for him music career.
Seth took the tray of nine tacos and sat back down at his table, across from Benjy, where they proceeded to dine like kings, enjoying the delicious delicacies that drew people from miles away to this very restaurant. The meat was so succulent; the subtlety of the man seasonings and spices filling the mouth to capacity. The tacos were so delicious that the world seemed to melt away and was replaced with pure ecstasy, the two men quenching their hunger with food fit for a god.
No, I can’t do this. I’m not going to listen as you describe how ‘good’ shitty fast food tacos are. I still need to tell my story. We are four pages in and I haven’t even gotten close to the trash talking piece yet. I have to talk about how I don’t even know who Cormac McNeill, Jon Michaels, and Seifer Black Armstrong are. Logan, Oblivion, and Jordan Caliban are going to take up at least two paragraphs a piece as I just thoroughly lay out every reason they have no chance of beating S-PAC. Then of course mentioning how useless Night Rider, Odin Balfore, and Deuce Maximus are altogether, even if they were fused Dragon Ball Z-style into a super wrestler, they would still have no shot. Then lastly, I’d have to spend a good deal of time talking about how Nathan, Jakobs, and Steeltoe are possibly the most bass-ackwards pairing I have ever seen in my entire career, not only as a wrestler, but as a fan of wrestling.
Don’t you ever get tired of that? Week-in and week-out, trying to think of new and creative ways to make fun and insult these people; it is just exhausting after a point. Eventually, all that’s left is making fun of how big their noses are or how badly they filled out their tax-forms. It’s not rewarding either, what am I supposed to get out of calling Odin a past-his-prime piece of dead weight pulling, not only his team, but this whole company down with him? Does it make me a better wrestler? Does it make him worse than he already is? It’s not like anyone cares what you say, they probably never hear it in the first place. They just keep going on their marry way, thinking they are king shit. They don’t change, they don’t develop, they are just the same boring and cheap wrestlers they have always been and the crowd will keep eating it up until something different comes along.
That’s the problem, something new has come along and people haven’t noticed it. You and I have tried our best to bring something new to this industry and guess what they keep doing? Making the same, generic, shallow, skin-deep insults they’ve been making for years. If no one is even going to notice when something different is put right in front of their goddamn faces, why should I attempt to do something new? Might as well do the ole’ in-and-out. Go in, make fun of their mothers, tell them to suck a dick, and then leave so I can enjoy the rest of my week. I mean, Zombie McMorris has been doing it for years, hell, he stole a stupid meme from the internet and people loved it. Does it matter that he is a better competitor? Fuck no. Does it matter that he puts no effort into his in-ring performance? Fuck no. I rather be the one that gave up than be the king of the shit pile.
Then why the fuck did you come back if you knew you were just going to do the same shit again and again? I mean, you could have just stayed home, spat out some snarky comment every once in a while and then go on without the worry of competing against these fucking hacks. You could have done all that, but you came back for a reason. I’ve always had my reasons, legit ones that have kept me going this long, but all I ever hear from you is the same crying and bitching about how the world isn’t fair, how idiots are keeping you down, and hell, I do that all the time, but at least I’m doing it in a new way, but you are still the same boring, rich, self-loathing Benjamin Atreyu that stepped into this company some time ago. So, please, please tell me why you came back? I mean listen to the drivel you just spouted out about each wrestler in our upcoming match. It was boring, it was a mess, it was shallow, and it didn’t say anything that they haven’t been saying about each other for forever-
Because I don’t know what else to do! Every time I leave, I think, “that’s it, I’m fucking done”, but after a couple months, that urge to come back creeps up on me. It twists my stomach into knots, it tears me to pieces, it keeps me up at night to the point that I’ll start drifting during meetings and important company functions. I’m supposed to be the face of my company, but all I can think about is bringing a steel chair over the head of some strange. It fills every thought; scoop slams, suplexes, broken tables, bent ladders, violent outbursts, and it all piles up until I can’t take it anymore. I CAN’T leave this place. I wish I could, but I can’t. So, no matter how tired of it all I become, I can’t stay away, it makes me physically ill to not be a wrestler. It’s this compulsion I need to fulfill and if I don’t it breaks me down. It doesn’t even matter if I win anymore, it doesn’t matter if I have to spout the most generic crap I can think of, it’s my addiction to wrestling. It sounds stupid, I know it does, but it’s true. I thought joining S-PAC might guarantee that I could change something at least, if I HAD to be here, but I just can’t pull anything together, everything I say or do is just the same crap as always.
Oh boo hoo, I’m so fucking sad because I can’t be original. I was once one of the most dominant wrestlers in this company, but now I’ve been reduced to a sniveling pile of shit, because the world doesn’t love me enough. If you don’t fucking man up, that’s going to be your legacy. Your problem is the world has become so stagnant around you that you are becoming stagnant. You look at this as a routine instead of a challenge. So you don’t deviate from the template that’s been put before you, you just fill in the blank spots and send in the form like you always have. Einstein said that insane was repeating the same experiment multiple times and expecting the different results. Well here is the result, you lost, get over it and try again. Make all the superficial changes you want, but you’ll always know that they are superficial. If you want those ignorant sycophant to learn anything, you have to start changing your perspective radically. Experiment, look at the world in a new light, stretch concepts and ideas until they are unrecognizable. You can do as you please, its all art in the end, but don’t you EVER look at your feet an figure doing the same thing is good enough, because that’s the bullshit that the roster buys, and they can buy it all they wants, but that’s why we are in S-PAC, because it wasn’t good enough, it wasn’t even close.
Um…guys?
…So what do I do, then?...
You stop excepting what is typical, stop trying to pry into the same ole’ tropes and start experiencing something different, because that’s what made us the minds we are today and once the ground around us is too familiar, we find new ground to tread.
Uh…I’m still here you know…
…
You know what I am saying is true.
…
Ya’know, if you guys are in the middle of something important, I can leave…
Wait…
Huh?
…Sit your ass right back down and tell us more of that crazy fucking taco story.
Shweetnuggets!
Did he just say ‘shweetnuggets’?
Okay, so where was I? Oh right…As our heroes were enjoying their meal, Seth noticed something incredibly suspicious. “Hmm? It appears one of our tacos are missing,” he said, but what he didn’t know is that taco was being disposed of by Mr. Cash at that particular moment, in the only way he knew how…by throwing it out into the rain! He chucked it out the back booth window as hard as he good, ensuring that the dangerous ninja taco could not hurt anyone, but what will happen next in this story might…just…astound you! See, the raise soaked through the wrapper and into the killer taco, shorting out is circuit and causing it to reboot, wiping its programing clean. Its knowledge of ninjistu, all of its targets, and its mission were completely wiped from memory, leaving it as a blank canvas waiting to be opened to experience the world anew. A brand new start for something that was once meant to kill.
But what the taco didn’t know- Seems to be a popular phrase in this story. -was that a bird was closely circling overhead, watching the abandoned taco as it waited for the right moment. Eventually, it swooped down and picked up the taco with its strong talons, carrying it off into the distance as it hoped to use it as sustenance for its family, but little did the bird know- See, there it is again. -that instead of making its way into its stomach, the taco would make its way into its heart. Aww.
With every intention of eating the taco as soon as it got back to its nest, it didn’t notice that the wrapper it was in was slowly unwrapping with every flap of the bird’s wings. When the bird finally reached it nest, the taco’s wrapper finally came fully undone, sending the taco crashing into the nest.
“Sweeties,” the bird called out to its babies, “see what I brought home to you.” Wait, is it a talking bird or is it just talking in bird language? Don’t question it, just accept it.
but as the baby birds peeked over at the new food, they saw it begin to stir. The birds began to panic as the once dead thing seemed to be springing to life right before their very eyes. “Mommy mommy!” the birds cried out in unison, “it’s moving!”
The taco slowly powered on and got to its feet. So, it has feet? Yeah, how else would it use its ninjitsu skills to kill you? It looked around, confused and startled, unsure where it was or what it was doing. The mother bird looked on in horror as the thing it had snatched from a taco bell parking lot stood up. What was it to do? She couldn’t kill it in front of her children, she couldn’t just take it back to the parking lot, and she definitely couldn’t eat it now that she knew it was alive, so she did the one thing she had to do, accept it into its family. The more I hear from the story, the more confused I become. It’s a story, deal with it. Even fiction has logic. You didn’t like children’s books as a kid, did you? Clifford the big red dog was a metaphor for the far reaching grasp of communism and Brave Little Toast might as well been called “Yay Slavery”, so no, I didn’t.
The bird raised the taco in its own mysterious bird ways, letting it believe it was a bird and never telling it about where it truly came from. Eventually, the mother bird found it fit to begin teaching it the martial art style of the winged family, so that it could defend itself whenever trouble decided to rear its ugly head. Wait, what? Bird-Fu. So, it’s basically a mix of The Jerk, The Ugly Duckling, and The 36th Chamber of Shaolin? The story is very Tarantino-esque, if you ask me.
The other birds made fun of the taco, making it feel alienated from the rest of the birds, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t stop trying, studying the martial arts every day, doing its best to be the best bird it could be, but one day the mother bird, when it felt the taco was old enough, decided to tell the taco the truth about where it was truly from.
“Y-you mean…I’m not a bird like you?” the taco began to tear up as it heard the truth, “b-but, then what am I?”
“You are a different majestic creature, my son,” the mother bird replied, “you are a taco.”
“T-taco?”
“Yes, and it is time that I let you go so you can find your own way in life. A bird’s life is no life for you, but I can only hope what you learned here will help you through your days and achieve a truly fulfilling life.”
The taco was conflicted; it didn’t want to leave its home, but it knew that what the mother bird was saying was true and that he would never truly be happy in the realm of the winged ones. So he said good-bye to the only mother he ever truly had and set off for the big city, where all dreams came true.
It was a hard life; the taco took up a job in construction, making ends meet by working overtime just to keep a roof over its head, but then the economy collapsed, people everywhere began to lose their jobs, including the taco, forcing him into the streets where he fought for food and survival every day. On a particularly cold winter’s night the taco was going its best to keep warm on a park bench, but he could feel the cold slowly solidifying its grease until everything started to fade to black, he wasn’t ready to say good-bye to the world, but he was too tired to fight the end. Oh, sad ending…nice. Shhh.
But little did the taco know- And there it is again. That there was an angel looking after him that day and the taco was taken in by a kind man, where he was nursed back to health, who could this man have been? Was it you? Only someone with a heart of gold- It was you, wasn’t it? -could have been so kind as to take that starving taco into its home. It was you, I know it. Dear listener, it was the amazing Seth Dominics. Called it! Over time, the taco had a strange feeling that he had seen Seth before, but did not question it due to Seth’s unending kindness and humility. For years, they lived together in harmony, becoming best of friends, helping each other through highs and lows, and the taco even made Seth his best man at his wedding, a title that Seth was more than happy to take, and not just because it had “best” in it. But little did either of them know… Really? That a simple utterance would destroy their friendship.
“Oh, well, I’m off taco,” Seth said as he was getting ready to leave.
“Where are you going?” the taco asked.
“Oh, just some secret government stuff, got to stop the KGB, all that jazz.” Then suddenly, as if it was all knocked loose by a hammer of words, the taco began to remember its past. The mission, his training, his targets.
“Seth…”
“Yeah?” Seth replied as he looked over at the taco to see it in fighting stance, tears rolling down its eyes.
“I-it is my job…to-to…kill you.”
“But…why?”
“I was designed by the KGB to be the ultimate killing Taco, but due to a strange chain of events, my memory was wiped clean and when I saw you, I had no idea who you were, but I remember everything now…I must kill you.”
“So, if it must be so…” Seth switched into fighting stance, the tension mounting, their nerves shaken as these two best friends were forced to fight each other…to the death. Seth had fought thousands, hell, even millions of ninjas to the death, but never had he ever been forced to fight one he had known to be his…friend. Oh, for Christ sake…
Finally, the taco made the first move and the fight that commenced could only be described as awesome. It was of such magnitude that any attempt to speak it aloud would fail to give it just. Booo, cheap! Shut up, Benjy! Eventually, Seth was knocked back into a corner and the taco slowly approached.
“So, this is it,” Seth said solemnly.
“I guess so,” the taco replied unable to look his friend in the face.
“One of us will have to die…”
“That’s just the way it is.”
Seth made a last move out of desperation, picking out the taco’s weak spot and attacking it with a strong thrust, his fingers pointed out, digging into and ripping the taco’s soft shell. Meat began to pour forth and the taco fell to his knees, aware that his last remaining moments were brief, he looked over at Seth and used his last breath to speak.
“I…I’m glad…if…if only one of us could walk away…that…that it was you.” Seth dove and held the taco as it fell, “Will…I…dream?” and with that, the taco took its last breath and said goodbye to this world.
“TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Really? Is that how it ends, he kills the taco? Really? Gable, can you…Dude, are you fucking crying? Of course I’m fucking crying, that was a beautiful story…the taco…really DID work its way into your heart… If you like that, you’ll love my other ‘Seth and Benjy’ Fan-fics. Oh, please yes, tell us another one. Okay how about this “Seth Joins the Kumate…OR Where is my Hair Brush”…the year was 1943. Yeah, no, I’m gonna stop you there.(End)