Ever since I started being the Taco Werewolf, I've been amazed at all the synchronicity in my life regarding the merging of body hair and Mexican food. My mother always told me growing up that eating alot of burritos would grow hair on my chest, but I wasn't prepared for all the numerous coincidences and connections I would encounter once I consciously began to seek out creative inspiration regarding werewolf life-styles involving Mexican food. One of these inspirational moments occurred while I was working at Taco Bell this past summer, and it actually helped me fix a broken relationship with a dear friend.
Taco Bell called me and gave me a job back in July, rescuing me from having to work for that slimeball, Mitch, selling his goddam glowsticks. In March and April I'd applied to all the Mexican restaurants in town, figuring it would give me some good "street cred" to be Taco Werewolf and having worked in a Mexican restaurant at one point or another. It could only enhance my credentials, right? It didn't bother me to be a 39-year old man working in a fast food joint, making tacos and being ordered around by 16-year old punk kids. I did it for art's sake and for the sake of comedy, if not even to humble myself a little. These kids could tell me to grab a mop and squirt sour cream on a goddam gordita with all the rudeness and impudence their snot-nosed personalities could muster, but they couldn't touch my wolfen soul. They couldn't keep my body hair from growing, my pubes from sprouting, my heart from howling, or keep me from reading my werewolf books. The joke was on THEM in the end. People have no idea what I'm really thinking or what I'm really up to while I pretend to participate in their mundane world or work in their lousy restaurants. I've had a secret agenda since the day I was born.
People are always talking about how a even a monkey could work in a place like Taco Bell, but to tell you the truth, that shit was hard! There's alot of stuff to remember. You have to know which ingredients go in what item: how to make a Mexican pizza and how long to cook it; the subtle difference between a gordita and a chalupa; what orders require guacamole and which require sour cream. When to use tomatoes, how much lettuce to put in each taco, and the list goes on and on. To my credit, I bit my tongue and just smiled while this 18-year old kid who was training me chided me and snapped at me while I struggled to learn the menu. There was one time when a customer complained that the steak in his fajita wasn't fully cooked-- and that it had too much onions it-- when this kid training me told me if I didn't shape up, he was going to have me cleaning the toilet every night. I said fine, and left the kitchen area to head straight into the bathroom. About ten minutes later, the manager came into the bathroom to see me on my hands and knees, giddily scrubbing the toilet bowl. "You need to be behind the counter learning to make a steak fajita right, is what you need to be doing," he said. I just said okay, and I walked back into the kitchen to make fajitas, having not washed my hands. Hahahhaaa.
After a couple weeks, though, I settled in, learned the menu by heart, and became one of the stars of the crew. After about three weeks, I was put on the cash register and got to wear a set of headphones to work the drive-thru. The interesting part came when an ex-friend of mine, Chimp, came in to order some tacos. Chimp used to be a good friend of mine when I started making my Taco Werewolf websites a few years ago. He actually took a few of the photosets of me, most notably the one of me making a Taco Sacrifice (Adults Only! NSFW!) in a graveyard. He played a big part in Taco Werewolf getting off the ground. The problem arose when he borrowed a bunch of my hairy porn DVD cases to serve as background for a short horror film he was supposed to be making, part of which would take place in a porn store. He borrowed my hairy porn movie cases and promised me a small part in the movie in return. Funny thing is, that was two fucking YEARS ago and I hadn't heard a word from him since until he came into Taco Bell that day.
Needless to say, I refused to sell him any tacos until he returned my fucking porn cases. Chimp understood, and he actually seemed sorry for having screwed me over, for not responding to my emails or answering my phone calls all this time. Come to find out, he'd been avoiding me because he was embarrassed that he hadn't even made the damn movie, and that my fucking porn cases had just been sitting in his apartment all this time. It was a magical moment when Chimp came in to the Taco Bell a couple days later to return the cases, though. He brought them all into the restaurant in a black trash bag. I asked him to dump them all right on the counter so I could make sure they were all there. I looked at the pictures on all the cases and saw sweet, furry beavers, all these beautiful hirsute women getting fucked in their figurative tacos as the smell of actual, literal tacos lingered in the air! Chimp looked at me and smiled because he knew what I was thinking. I was thinking about hairy pussy! I was gleefully imagining my werewolf cock going deep inside a HaiRY TaCO, and that's when I shook Chimp's hand and our friendship was repaired. "Thanks for bringing back my porn cases, dude," I said. "Come back later on during my lunch break and you and I can eat our tacos together." Chimp agreed and even offered to pay for them to make up for his mistake. As we ate our tacos that day and talked about old times, we both marveled over how body hair and Mexican food seemed to be married to one another, at least in our own lives, and how they constantly seemed to intersect. It was especially hilarious when Chimp bit into one of the tacos and frowned, said, "Ew! What the fuck?" He then proceeded to pull a long hair out of his mouth that had been inside the taco as I laughed my ass off. It was one of my pubic hairs that I had intentionally stuck in there when I made it, to get him back! Hahahahahaa.
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