Looks innocent doesn't it?
Hahaha (Just in case you're wondering, I am laughing condescendingly and shaking my head slowly in amusement).
How naive you must be.
Back when V was the boyfriend, not the husband, and I was living in Ballarat for uni, I would take the train down to see him on the weekends.
One night I was saying how I felt like tacos. V said he had never eaten a taco.
I'm going to let that marinate for a second.
A twenty four year old. In the free world. Had never eaten a mother freaking taco.
My facial expression was something like the facial expression Heidi Montag has in the opening credits to The Hills where you think she's that side stand at the circus that you throw balls in (hehehehe, dirty) to win a prize:
I was all, "We must make tacos immediately!!!! What if you die in your sleep tonight? You will never eat a taco!! What if the world ends? We will be too busy fighting mutants to make tacos. WE MUST GO NOW!!!"
We went to the shops and bought the necessary supplies and made them. Then we sat down with my final comment:
BE PREPARED FOR AWESOMENESS!!!!
This is how the tacos looked at this point:
All nice, happy and innocent.
After basking in the reverent kudos of V, I smugly strutted around the house in a manner reminiscent of the intro to Saturday Night Fever
I was the taco queen. I pwned the creator of tacos. I was going to rule the world, one taco at a time (No I wasn't overreacting. V's mother is an awesome cook and up until that point in my life, I had hardly cooked anything. I spent three years of uni living on two minute noodles and toast. This was the greatest cooking triumph in the history of the world).
After being the taco queen got exhausting, we went to bed.
Waking up at 3 in the morning, I had that specific feeling you get when your body has been invaded by miniature hockey players, and the hockey players have hands like Edward Scissorhands. And they just found out there is free beer right outside your body, and they haven't had anything to drink in three years, and there has been an announcement that there is only enough beer for half of them, and it's first come first serve. It turned into freaking anarchy.
I commando crawled down the hall while their cat took a swipe at me and set up camp around the toilet.
After three hours of pain enduced delusions, and crying "WHY? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY?" at the cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, my mind became strangely clear. There was no happy taco. My excitement of not burning down V's parent's house while cooking actually hid the true nature of the tacos I had ingested. They were evil.
If you go and ask the doctor, he'll say I was in the early stage of appendicitis. And that because I was so sure that it was the tacos trying to shred my insides, I avoided going to the doctor for two days. And that apparently I nearly let my appendix burst and could have died. HE obviously got his medical agree at http://www.freemedicaldegreesandcheaphawaiianshirtbonanzawarehouse.com/ and refused to go with my suggestion that tacos had decided to use my internal organs as a nuclear weapon testing area.
I didn't eat another taco for six years. And even now I run a metal detector over one before it is eaten
Tacos. The silent appendix killer