For the better part of a semester on campus, Taco Bell has supplied for students the savory, inexpensive, and “totally healthy” solution to their late-night Mexican food cravings. From its destination just inside the front doors of The 90, a line of eagerly anticipatory students can usually be seen wrapping around the perimeter of this food establishment multiple times, circling all five Woodland Glen residence halls, and ending on the roof of the Willy T Library.
What, you might ask, makes Taco Bell food worth the five hour wait at this so called “fast food” eatery? The answer is simple – the secret ingredient: love. However, as with any ingredient, love has a limited supply. And Taco Bell is running out.
“They just don’t mass-produce love like they used to,” Taco Bell manager Burr E. Toh lamented through a mouthful of Crunch Wrap Supreme. “I remember, back in the good ‘ol days, when my mother could always lavishly add love to every bite of her homemade burritos. Unfortunately, those days are behind us now.” The news that such a seemingly renewable resource could be used up so quickly shocked both consumers and producers alike. Taco Bell is no stranger to the concept of supply and demand, and has run out of ingredients before, ranging from the simple, such as sour cream and nuclear waste, to the complex, such as cheese. Also, admitted one employee, “Sometimes we would just get tired of serving people and slap up a bunch of ‘sold out’ signs on the menu to make people leave, those suckers.”
However, there will be no such simple remedy for an epidemic of these proportions. Many concerns have been expressed by the Wildcat community. “How will we live without Taco Bell?” one student wailed. “Is Starbucks next to go?” a professor keened. “Where in the world will we go to eat, socialize, do homework, worship, and play racquetball??” a grad student howled, sinking to her knees and baying at the moon in utter dismay. Mankind does not yet possess the answers to any of these unknowable questions, but don’t fret, as it is only a matter of time before alternative intangible ingredients are developed and implemented to fill the void left by love’s loss.
Some healthy but (as of yet) impractical, suggestions from the University administration include pixie dust, Christmas spirit, and students’ hopes and dreams. “I guess you’re just going to have to deal with it for now,” Manager Toh said full-walletly. “We will still continue to sell tacos, just with less of the love and goodwill you’ve come to expect in our food. It’s like I always say: it’s better to have loved and lost than to notice that you’re eating a pile of cheesy squirrel droppings rolled up in a tortilla.”
By Elaborate Buddhism