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Burritos Gone Wild

It was a starry, warm evening. Students were out drinking and screaming about where they would satisfy their drunchies, so Paul decided it would be best to stay in tonight to avoid the hangover. Paul was a lonely Qdoba burrito, no quesadilla had lain in his bowl in over two years, and from time to time he felt pretty soggy about it. He spent most evenings alone on the couch, watching dirty pay-per-view Taco Bell commercials to satisfy his needs, but tonight the usually spicy chalupas just weren’t bringing the sour cream.

 

It was getting pretty late, so Paul decided to turn off the porn and put on some Wheel of Fortune reruns instead. It was almost 3 a.m. when he noticed a particularly steamy commercial come on. Paul heard a sultry whisper come from the TV. “Do you ever get lonely at night? Wish you had someone to talk to? Well don’t worry, we have plenty of hot, fresh, local burritos just waiting to chat up your burrito bowl. Just call 1-800-SPICY and we’ll make sure you guac ;)” Paul was immediately horny. Feeling his beans rise in his tortilla, he wasted no time dialing.

 

“Hola” said the voice on the line, “My name is Cindy, I’m from Chipotle, what about you?” she asked. Paul was already nervous, he’d never talked to a Chipotle burrito before. He lied and said he was from Chipotle, too, It just sounded so much classier. “Wish you were here with me,” Cindy pouted. “Oh yeah,” Paul replied. “What would you do to me?” Paul asked as he nervously awaited her response. “First, I’d slide you right out of your cute little tin foil to heat up your rice and beans. Then I’d pour hot, cheesy queso all over your soft tortilla body,” Cindy whispered while Paul stroked his fajita vegetable, about to erupt with sour cream. “Come over,” Paul begged, quaking with desire. “What do you want me to wear?” she replied. “I’d love if you wore guacamole pasties, but go ahead and surprise me — I’m ready for anything.”

 

Paul was surging with sexual energy. He was a bit worried about not being from Chipotle, but unless she tasted his guac she would never know. He lit some chip-scented candles to set the mood and laid out the finest lettuce sheets in his bowl. He cozied up in finest foil, leaving it unwrapped just a little so she could catch a glimpse of his goods when she walked in. He texted her his address, and it wasn’t long before she said she was on her way. This was a union that was about to end the fast-food feud between families everywhere, and Paul couldn’t wait.

 

Paul heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” he moaned. “I can’t wait to stick my beans in you.” Cindy sensually squiggled into his room. “Let me turn the lights off to set the mood,” she whispered as she slipped into his bed. Things heated up right away, Paul was just about to slip on his bean casing when he noticed something was wrong. He kissed her one last time and tasted verde sauce. Suddenly he smelled something that definitely wasn’t from Chipotle, it was much greasier.

 

He got up and flicked on the lights. Cindy struggled to cover her loose cheese with a blanket. “You whore! You’re not from Chipotle! You’re a chalupa! I’d know Taco Bell anywhere!” He screamed in a fit of rage. “I can explain!” Cindy protested, but Paul was just not having it. “No need,” he hissed, “I can’t believe I almost stuck my beans in your Grade-D beef!” Cindy ran out of the house, clinging to her taco shell, leaving behind a thick trail of GMOs and zesty pepper jack sauce.

 

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