burrito cannibalism

The book of burrito

“And so it came to pass that the breakfast burrito became the dominant life-form on the planet.”

–Richard Lindsay

And the breakfast burrito began to speculate as to who made the breakfast burrito.

And there were differences of opinion.

And then there were terrible breakfast burrito wars.

And breakfast burrito fought breakfast burrito.

And some breakfast burritos were more equal than other breakfast burritos, no matter what lip service they received.

And there was a breakfast burrito dark age.

And there was a breakfast burrito enlightenment.

And a lot of breakfast burritos lost faith.

And there was a breakfast burrito golden age.

And the breakfast burritos became decadent.

And thus our story opens on a world full of brazen, decadent, hedonistic breakfast burritos– in pursuit of nothing but the ultimate pleasure.

***

Two breakfast burritos sat in a dimly lit room, each filled with passions only fully felt by their kind. They were saucy. They experienced a burning within.

At last one of the burritos dared speak its mind. “I hunger.”

The other replied, “I, too, hunger, passionately.”

“What is to be done?” moaned the first.

“The solution is simple,” said the second. “We eat.”

“What is it we shall eat?” said the first.

“We shall eat each other,” said the second.

“Oh, the shame!” said the first.

“It is a necessity!” cried the second. “There is no shame in necessity!”

“How shall we proceed?” said the first.

“We shall position ourselves in such a way that we may comfortably eat each other,” said the second. “We shall lay beside each other, each facing the opposite way.”

“Not the fabled ‘11’ position?” said the first.

“The same,” said the second.

“I am afraid!” said the first.

“You are a prude,” said the second. “You act as if you have never eaten another burrito!”

“You have ruined this role-play!” said the first.

“It isn’t working for you?” said the second.

“It was, but then you ruined it,” said the first. “You had to go all metafictional.”

“I am a modern burrito,” said the second.

“I am a classic burrito,” said the first.

“You filthy, loose burrito!” shouted the second.

“On with the sex already,” said the first burrito coldly. “I have tired of this game.”

***

For millennia burritos had no individual names. Then arose a particularly kinky burrito. This burrito declared that in an age of hedonistic excess it was proper that a burrito should have a name. An individual name. A moniker. Thus he went by the name ‘William the Great.’ He also declared himself king over all burritos. This, however, was accepted by very few burritos. Those who did accept it were of a submissive nature.

William decreed that all burritos should have names. This was primarily to aid in the new practice of burritos selling other burritos into bondage. Burrito slavery.

***

“Breakfast burrito you are my brother.”

“No. I am brother to all breakfast burritos.”

“Then I am still your brother.”

“Do not labor the point.”

***

One day a breakfast burrito came home to find its love mingling with a fresher, more exotic breakfast burrito. It was the end of the perfect burrito relationship. Or the beginning.

***

“I cannot tell one breakfast burrito from another,” said a bean burrito. “They are all the same to me.”

“You are a racist!” replied a breakfast burrito.

“To me all breakfast burritos are equal. They are the same at the great table of the universe.”

“You are an egalitarian!” replied a breakfast burrito.

***

“Here is what we will do. We will refresh your filling. New rice and beans for old. New sauce. Not too much – not too little. Your choice of other fillings for a fee.” The burrito plastic surgeon was patient and understanding. “While we are exchanging your filling, we will refresh your flour wrapping. New skin for old.”

“But then, what will be left of me?” cried the middle-aged burrito. “If you replace my inside and my outside, what is left of me?”

“That is a question for the philosophers,” said the doctor. “But if you ask me, it leaves your soul. You will be reborn. As a newer, better, fresher burrito.”

“But will it not in fact be death?” cried the patient.

“I still believe in the great burrito maker in the sky,” said the doctor. “I am old fashioned, though I know it is against the ways of science. We were made by a greater burrito. You have nothing to fear. You will be born again.”

Then the burrito doctor tore apart the other burrito and made a new burrito. He told the new burrito it was the old burrito. And the new burrito believed.

***

“Burrito,” said one burrito, “You are rolled too tightly. Let it hang out.”

The other burrito let it all hang out. It was his undoing.

***

The burrito’s best and oldest friend is the tortilla chip. Though the chip sometimes jabs holes in its burrito companion. The burrito forgives this transgression. The chip, after all, is just a simple creature possessing only the base instincts. The burrito possesses the nature of forgiveness and grace, though throughout the world this does not keep one burrito from hurting and killing another, for either ideological reasons or for sport.

***

“If a burrito had wings it could fly.”

“You are a fool. If a burrito were meant to fly, it would have wings.”

***

“Why do burritos exist?” asked the young seeker.

“To enjoy the hedonistic excesses afforded to them in the world,” replied the guru.

***

In the final burrito war, the war to end all burrito wars, hot oil was dropped on each side by the other. The burritos were flash fried. They were frozen where they stood or lay. They were crispy statues representing their civilization, culture, and technological advancements. Then the rains came. At last there was nothing left. It was as if there were never a burrito in the world. The lizards rose and they never knew of the burrito.

The burrito was forgotten. A burrito is but a momentary pleasure in the eye of the universe. Thus ends the lesson.