Would You Like Nachos with That

I’ve got a number of bad habits.

One of them is eating lunch at Taco Bell. I know it’s not good for me. I even know that it doesn’t really count as Mexican food; I certainly don’t count it when I tell people that Mexican is quite probably my favorite cuisine. But I’ve got a thing for that vaguely cheese-like sauce that they put on their nachos and in their Crunchwraps and probably in a host of other dishes.

And another thing I like is the packets of hot sauce. The sauce inside of them is okay too, but it’s the packets that I really like. They’ve taken to printing amusing little statements on the sauce packages for the last few years. Things like, “At night the sporks pick on me,” or “I collect straws.”

I picked up one today and it said, “Make a wish.” So I decided to play along. I closed my eyes and wished. As I often do, in these little ceremonial wishes, I wished for a boyfriend, one who is both worth keeping and one whom I might actually have some chance of keeping.

The next packet said, “Will you marry me?”

I glanced out the window, and sure enough, there was God. She pointed at the hot sauce and then at me and winked, letting me know that she had arranged the juxtaposition of packets. Sometimes God’s sense of humor is pretty childish.

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