Close Call: Quack’s nearly lost me

Let’s face it, America: I eat a lot of breakfast tacos. I eat them almost every day, because if I don’t I’m afraid something terrible might happen to me. After all, nothing terrible has happened to me since I started eating them, right? Right.

Since moving to the 78722, I’ve been heading to Quack’s every morning for internets and tacos. The staff knows me in a that-guy-is-here-every-day way, not yet in a oh-good-morning-it’s-Chris-I-know-exactly-what-he-wants kind of way.

Quack’s and I almost broke up this morning. Cue sad music.

I ordered my breakfast taco. Some more customers came in. The cook dinged the bell. My taco was ready. I saw my taco. The employees ignored my taco. I saw the owner notice my taco, and he did a double-take. Tensions were rising. It was obvious the taco was losing freshness. The owner picked up my taco, gave it to me, and I turned into the saddest boy in Maplewood. This couldn’t be happening.

The taco was cold and *gasp*…small. Cue horror music.

Five minutes later the owner walked over a new breakfast taco to me, apologizing about the wait and the size of the first one. All at once I took a deep breath, relaxed, and nothing terrible happened to me.