I once made love to a taco shell stuffed with rancid meat and watery tomato bits. It was the best sex I’ve ever served to an unsuspecting customer.

Empty packets of hot sauce remind me of the love I used to have for her. Now all I’m left with is this yummy taco.

If not for me being stoned and clinging to a taco, it would have been terribly romantic.

Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer.