Taco Bell Ritual
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Taco Bell Ritual
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 charter, 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: Tacos, 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 advices 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 its warm, 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 of the Great Rite, I inserted
my straw into my soft drink.
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 chose altar
and holding my athame-burrito high, I cried, "Tri-fold
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 !
Author Unknown (If you know who the author
is, please let us know so we can give credit where do.)
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WITCH |
Last updated
April 8, 2012
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