|
The Temple of Taco Bell
The moon was full and the streets were glowing with power on this appointed day. Clad
in ritual garb, I silently walked towards my place of worship. Soon it towered before me:
Taco Bell. The mirror of my heart and the captain of my soul. I closed my eyes to ground
and center. As I felt my inner power grow, I intoned the ancient chant: 59-79-99,
59-79-99. I watched almost from a distance as my hand reached out and opened the door to
this holy temple of human desire. I entered the ritual space deliberately, but reverently.
As the door closed behind me and the sounds of the street faded to a negligible chatter, I
could begin to hear the spirits of this domain in their eternal song. Their song took the
melody from the chorus of that famous pagan song by Peter Murphy: Taco, Burritos,
Mexi-Nuggets, Nachos, Soft Drink,Tostada.
As I took my place at the rear of the line of novices, I could see and hear ahead of me
the graceful movements and words of the purple-clad priests and priestesses. One of the
elders was imparting magickal wisdom to a young initiate: "Turn that stove down - the
tortillas are getting charred!" Ah, I thought, they have not forgotten the burning
times.
Yesterday, upon the advice of a wise urban shaman I met late at night in Pioneer
Square, I had stuffed a taco in my pants. I could still feel its pressure against my
second chakra, filling my body with itswarm, yet chile energy.
Soon I reached the front of the line of novices. A sacred temple priestess stood before
me, clad in a hat bearing the logo of her order. "My Will is four light bean
burritos, hold the cheese, with a small soft drink. So mote it be." The power present
in the room twisted her face into what in mundane life would be interpreted as confusion.
I made the ritual offering of metal discs, gifts of the earth, as she made the traditional
magickal response: "Would you like that for here or to go?"
At last, I was ready to take my place at an altar. My four burritos, wrapped in their
silver metallic wrappers, lay before me. "Shining ones," I murmured. I was
profoundly moved, almost swooning as I reverently took one out of its wrapper. "May
you never hunger," I said as I emptied a ritual sauce packet on it.
Now it was time to invoke an element. "I call air," I said as I farted
noisily. The novice behind me made a gagging sound and moved away. "Oh well," I
told him, "go if you must, stay if you will." Next, thinking on the Great Rite,
I inserted my straw into my softdrink. The room was swirling with energy. I felt my
stomach turn in sympathy. I hoped I wouldn't have to go to the toilet to practice the law
of threefold return. Quickly, I reestablished my grounding.
But the energy was at its peak, and I could hold my voice back no longer. Leaping on my
chosen altar and holding my athamé-burrito high, I cried, "Trifold taco! Be with us
now as we honor you with cup and bean!" It was a transcendent moment. The quizzical
looks on the faces of the novices before me only deepened the sense of profound mystery
that I knew we must all be feeling.
But by the appearance of the two large uniformed gentlemen in front of me, I knew that
my role in this ritual had come to a close. I felt as they dragged me out the door that my
feet were not even touching the ground. With my soul in the clouds and my feet on the
earth, I turned to the outer doors of the temple and bowed my head. Merry eat, and merry
fart, and merry eat again. Blessed bean! |
MY WITCH SHOP
