I’ll Have A Warning Grande, No Common Sense, With Extra Whatever Passes for Meat

I should've known better. Returning here could only end in one way, and I knew it. After all, I danced with this particular devil for over ten years and barely managed to escape. Now here I am, once again staring down into the familiar, dark abyss that has painted my dreams in shades of technicolor terror ever since I managed to escape the shadow of this great evil so many years ago.

There is no hope for me. At my age, my chances of escape are about the same as that of a life-sized cut out of Wonder Woman escaping a comic book convention without being covered in sticky dork DNA. So here I sit writing my farewells to those I leave behind on the filthy walls of my prison. My pain racked, palsied shaken words resulting from a poorly chosen, carcinogenic burrito have found a place of rest right next to the final words of the poor desperate souls who perished here before me. I have no hope that my words will ever be read by a wise and compassionate soul. No, only fools ever find their way here, drawn by the same desperate and self-destructive impulse of the male Black Widow spider as it enters the web of its murderous lover. Being here, the risk of death is understood, but still, one's baser nature guides it up the web towards a self-imposed death that has been brokered by mindless, gluttonous lust.

My pathetic end was ordered from the Cravings Menu and the first bite sentenced me to death inside this cold tile walled crypt. The torture began as a heat within the depths of my abdomen and like a poisonous serpent, hatched from a shell of pure agony, it slithered to every cell within my body, it's fangs dripping a caustic trail of Diablo sauce the whole way. I am now trapped, paralyzed, and my agony keeps me in place better than even the strongest chains. The minutes pass, each twisting, writhing, second slices like a razor into the soft belly of my sanity. I am ready for it to end. Desperately, I cry out to whatever angel or devil that may be eavesdropping in the drive-thru headsets and beg for salvation or damnation, whichever will give me escape from my corroding, still breathing carcass.

Oh, I shouldn't have tempted fate. I knew I was within range of the siren's call. I could hear her muffled words as she tempted fools, promising to fulfill their gluttonous lust. Still, I set course dangerously close to her shore, so close that I could smell the stench as it escaped from her stucco covered island surrounded by a dirty asphalt sea. Now, hopelessly, I wait for the end.

Sweat dapples my brow as I slowly feel my organs begin to liquify and the marrow within my bones starts to explode shattering my skeleton like fine porcelain. I knew that it would end this way. After all, in my youth I watched so many before me succumb to this miserable, undignified end. As the gelatin-like substance of my eyes begins to boil, I blindly write my final words to those who're probably too foolish or too stoned to heed the warning within:

No matter how desperate you are, no matter how far from home you may be, never...Never...NEVER...NEVER...NEVER eat at a Taco Bell that has reserved parking for the health department and the CDC, while being suspiciously located right next to the pound. For if you do, your body will liquify while slowly (but surprisingly conveniently) filling the commode as you sit begging for mercy, your anguished cries for help going unanswered in a lonely Taco Bell restroom stall. Forgotten, anything left of you will be flushed down the drain by the poor motherfucker that makes minimum wage to clean this rest stop on the highway to Hell.