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| Jack in the Box is a Big 'Ole Cocktease |
| The house that lies built |
So the other day I’m out driving around and dancing behind the wheel of my car,
because that’s what I do, when I get stricken with a monster case of the hunger
pains. And when I say monster, I mean MONSTER, Godzilla-attacking-Tokyo-with-
Mothra-thrown-in-for-good-measure-pains. I’m talking stomach-shattering, bend you
over at the midsection with no reacharound-type hunger pains. Which aren’t good in
any case, but are especially not good when you’re trying to not run into other cars
while shaking your booty to “My Humps” by the Black Eyed Peas. So, faced with no
other options, I pulled into a Jack in the Box drive-thru. Big mistake.
While perusing the menu a very tasty and seasonal snack caught my eye: a pumpkin
pie milkshake. Now, I love me a good shake every once in awhile, and pumpkin pie is
my third favorite pie (after boston cream and hair), so I naturally assumed the
combination of the two could only be sublime. My mouth watered, my hair stood on
end, my testicles descended, and the excruciating hunger pains began to wane in
anticipation of a delicious, creamy cup of gourd. I could feel it in my fingers, as well
as in my toes: this was about to be one of the defining experiences of my life. Right
up there with getting laid for the first time and getting jumped into the Crips (West-
siiiiiiiide!). Eagerly I pulled up to the speaker and began to place my order:
“Welcome you Jack in Box, how may I krkaljkjlkj;la?”
“Uh, yes, I’d like two regular tacos and a pumpkin pie shake.”
“Two regular tacos and hwhat?”
“A pumpkin pie shake. Large, please.”
“What you talking about? We no have pumpkin pie shake.”
“Um, I’m looking at the sign right now. It says ‘try one of our pumpkin pie shakes,
for a limited time only.”
“No, no sign. We no have pumpkin pie shake.”
“But, the sign says…”
“Krkkkkskllkslsksslskjsl….”
I’m the type of guy who knows when to quit (unless we’re talking about drinking or
smoking, then me am retarded), so I accepted my fate, distasteful though it was, and
drove around to the first window. With a heavy heart I handed the cashier a dollar-
something and took my two regular tacos in return. I almost didn’t want them.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love tacos, but my hopes had been so high I couldn’t
help but feel disappointed. I pulled into a parking spot and discovered the problem
with Jack in the Box tacos: they are both hard and soft AT THE SAME TIME. That’s
just wrong. But I was hungry, so I glumly masticated my frankentacos and lamented
the fact that I didn’t have a pumpkin pie shake to wash it down.
I might have been down, but I’m definitely not out. One day, I will taste pumpkin pie
in shake form, even if I have to capture the Great Pumpkin and shove him into an
oversized blender while Linus weeps like the little nancy boy that he is. But until that
day, fuck you Jack in the Box, you big cocktease. I’m so pissed I might not even try
one of your new Ciabatta Sandwiches. But then again, I am getting pretty hungry…
because that’s what I do, when I get stricken with a monster case of the hunger
pains. And when I say monster, I mean MONSTER, Godzilla-attacking-Tokyo-with-
Mothra-thrown-in-for-good-measure-pains. I’m talking stomach-shattering, bend you
over at the midsection with no reacharound-type hunger pains. Which aren’t good in
any case, but are especially not good when you’re trying to not run into other cars
while shaking your booty to “My Humps” by the Black Eyed Peas. So, faced with no
other options, I pulled into a Jack in the Box drive-thru. Big mistake.
While perusing the menu a very tasty and seasonal snack caught my eye: a pumpkin
pie milkshake. Now, I love me a good shake every once in awhile, and pumpkin pie is
my third favorite pie (after boston cream and hair), so I naturally assumed the
combination of the two could only be sublime. My mouth watered, my hair stood on
end, my testicles descended, and the excruciating hunger pains began to wane in
anticipation of a delicious, creamy cup of gourd. I could feel it in my fingers, as well
as in my toes: this was about to be one of the defining experiences of my life. Right
up there with getting laid for the first time and getting jumped into the Crips (West-
siiiiiiiide!). Eagerly I pulled up to the speaker and began to place my order:
“Welcome you Jack in Box, how may I krkaljkjlkj;la?”
“Uh, yes, I’d like two regular tacos and a pumpkin pie shake.”
“Two regular tacos and hwhat?”
“A pumpkin pie shake. Large, please.”
“What you talking about? We no have pumpkin pie shake.”
“Um, I’m looking at the sign right now. It says ‘try one of our pumpkin pie shakes,
for a limited time only.”
“No, no sign. We no have pumpkin pie shake.”
“But, the sign says…”
“Krkkkkskllkslsksslskjsl….”
I’m the type of guy who knows when to quit (unless we’re talking about drinking or
smoking, then me am retarded), so I accepted my fate, distasteful though it was, and
drove around to the first window. With a heavy heart I handed the cashier a dollar-
something and took my two regular tacos in return. I almost didn’t want them.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love tacos, but my hopes had been so high I couldn’t
help but feel disappointed. I pulled into a parking spot and discovered the problem
with Jack in the Box tacos: they are both hard and soft AT THE SAME TIME. That’s
just wrong. But I was hungry, so I glumly masticated my frankentacos and lamented
the fact that I didn’t have a pumpkin pie shake to wash it down.
I might have been down, but I’m definitely not out. One day, I will taste pumpkin pie
in shake form, even if I have to capture the Great Pumpkin and shove him into an
oversized blender while Linus weeps like the little nancy boy that he is. But until that
day, fuck you Jack in the Box, you big cocktease. I’m so pissed I might not even try
one of your new Ciabatta Sandwiches. But then again, I am getting pretty hungry…
Email me at JimiChanga@SurlyTaco.com
Or, just head back to Salsa
Or, just head back to Salsa
