An Evening Drive To The Taco-Burger And The Events In The Thereafter

Dee was on her way home and the car was doing the wobbly thing again. She really should have it checked, but it promised to be an ordeal. She knew a guy who changed his own oil and he had named off like six things it could have been. All of them sounded like they would cost more than 45 dollars so she was just going to let it ride until something fell off or the car just would not start. This up-and-coming hazard to her wallet and health was overshadowed by another cheaper and more pressing hazard to her wallet and health.

The Taco-Burger was wrapped around twice with cars and the stench of chipotle peppers was coming in full blast through the AC. By the time she got around to pick up her order she couldn’t wait till home to eat something.

She pulled over into the adjoining strip mall and unwrapped one of the supreme tacos.

It was beautiful in construction.

Its shell was majestically uncracked, despite its haphazard and jammed-in placement in its to-go bag, the cheese was on top of the sour-cream that day and beneath the cream was the lettuce and tomato perfect, beautiful, unfaded cubes of tomato. The lettuce was prime and crisp, and the "real meat" paste looked like it might have beef in it! It was a good day for tacos.

It might have been perfect, but one thing had to be tested.

The tomato is a deceptive fruit by nature, and Dee knew this as well as anyone who’s patience had been tried at the hands of the devil’s love-apple. At first the tomato tricked the world into assuming it was poison then once that lie fell apart under scrutiny, it told everyone it was a vegetable. This was despite top scientist research to the contrary.

It fools thousands in supermarkets everyday with its vile act of feigning freshness. Often an unsuspecting victim attempts to grasp the tomato for examinations, only for it to melt into rot in their bare hand. Yes, Dee was very much wise to the tomato and its sick games.

When confronted with the tomato, she often instead chose to pick it off or eat around it. This was a good day for tacos, so she felt the tomato needed a chance at the least. She pinched one outstandingly shiny red tomato bit. It was hard and stuck to the lettuce, unusual. In pulling on it, she gutted a large portion of the taco onto her lap. “Shit,” she said, as she wiped the taco innards into the floormat. What remained in her hand started to dribble sour cream and lettuce water.

She noticed.

Her hand held a large clump of lettuce and sour cream smeared on a finger with bright red nail polish.

She startled.

By reflex she flung the finger away and it rebounded off the steering wheel into that nasty slot on the door, the very slot where the crusty change rolls and clicks when you make a hard turn. After having a moment to breathe and process, a courage forged of equal parts anger and curiosity grew in her. She scooped the finger out of the door with a napkin and drove back over to the Taco-Burger.

She went inside, which was rare for her. The dining area was empty. This was a small mercy but one she would accept. At the counter was a porous man in a button-up shirt. She felt lucky, he was probably a manager. She didn't want the embarrassment of having to ask for one. “Hey, I found this in my taco,” she presented the finger in its napkin nest. He looked at the finger then back at her. He sighed through his nose so hard a receipt blew off the counter.

“Ma'am that’s a Halloween decoration.”

“It was in my taco,” She asserted, not to assertively.

“Ma'am there is nobody here that would have put that in a taco,” He shot back with the speed of nacho cheese through a water-pistol.

“It was in there. And I think it might be real!” She attempted once more to convince him. He sighed harder, and the resulting gust toppled a cup full of straws at the other end of the counter.

“Ma'am, you need to call the corporate number if you want a voucher for a free meal. Nobody here is authorized to give out free food.” He rolled his eyes and flexed his robust nostrils. Realizing that conversation was not going to yield answers, she went back to her car, finger in hand.

She decided to call 911.

“911, what’s your emergency? “An older woman had answered the call.

“I would like to report a severed finger I found.”

“Did you say a finger ma'am,” Keyboard noises followed her voice through the speaker.

“Yes, I found in in a taco from the Taco-Burger.”

A staticky huff buzzed across the line and the woman rebuked, “Ma'am this line is for emergencies. A false emergency report puts you in danger of up to 2000 dollars in fines and possible jailtime. Please do not use this number again unless it’s an emergency.” There was a soggy beep and the line disconnected.

She had a finger in her cupholder now. A finger isn’t really the type of thing you just throw away. She needed a second opinion.

She sent a text to a friend. 'Hey.'

'Hey,' Jeff replied.

'What would you do if you were getting a taco and you found a finger in it?'

'At least it’s got actual meat in it'.

Dee rolled her eyes 'Ok but seriously what would you do'.

'Talk to Reiterant or Cops,' Jeff answered and immediately started typing again, '*reasteraunt auto-correct is screwing me.'

'What if that didn’t work?'

'Try and see the bright side not everybody can get their taco fingered for free.'

'Dude,' she sent him a picture of the finger in her cupholder.

'Is that real?'

'idk, can I come over I’m really confused.'

'You should let the food place know or 911'.

'I tried. Can I please come over so we can figure this out?'

'Aight. Can you put it on ice, 'Jeff asked?

Dee hadn’t thought about ice. That is what they do with severed parts in the tv shows, she thought. Next to the finger in the cupholder was her large lime soda. She sucked all the frigid soda out at once, inducing an eye twitchngly painful bout of brain freeze. She stuck the finger into the remaining ice and drove to Jeff’s apartment.

Jeff had been eating cold spaghetti out of a gallon zip lock bag when Dee knocked at the door, and, to her discomfort and confusion, he continued eating it the whole time.

The cup containing the finger was now open lidded on Jeff’s coffee table where the two pondered over it.

“So do you think it’s really somebody’s finger,” She asked.

“I don’t know, maybe we could take it to the hospital,” Jeff asked back.

“Well, if it is real, how are we going to explain how we got it? Like, what if its off a murder victim or something?”

“You thinkin' maybe the Taco-Burger dudes are covering a murder?” This was not a serious inquiry on Jeff’s part. “Maybe it is fake. They can make some pretty real looking body parts nowadays. Like, I was watching this video the other day and this guy was putting different sexdolls in his woodchipper to see if they would choke it out.” The verve with which Jeff mimicked the motion of cramming a lifeless, semi-rigid, roughly human-sized object into a woodchipper was enviable. He punctuated the thought by poking his spaghetti bag with the blunt end of his fork.

“What?” Dee stared at him.

“You know the guy. I sent you that gif of the water-balloon, with the petroleum jelly?” Jeff seamlessly and masterfully redirected the conversation.

“Jeff, can we be serious and figure this out please.”

“How? Neither of us have any ideas.”

“I don’t know," she sighed. Both of them just stared at the finger while Jeff played with his spaghetti. "Ok, maybe I can just hold onto it and see if anything comes up.”

“I guess that’s an option. I’d keep it in the fridge or something though. But like, how long does a finger keep?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think It could be put back on by now anyway.”

“Well, you, uhh, wanna hang out a bit, play some deathmatch?” Jeff asked while twirling his fork.

“Nah. I’m probably just going to head home and sleep.” And so, she did.

The finger took residence in her freezer suspended in an ice block within a Taco-Burger cup. She went back to work after the weekend and the finger faded into the back of her mind.

About three months later her lease was up. She was moving apartments and Jeff was over helping her pack up. Jeff was the ideal choice of someone to help her move, as he did not bat an eye at the mountains of Monstrous™ energy drink cans on all her end tables. With the rest of the mess cleaned and belongings packed, they got around to clearing the pantry and fridge. Jeff eyed the Taco-Burger cup at the back of her freezer as he was putting some frozen pizza in a cooler.

“You ended up eating there again?” Jeff said as he raised the cup.

“Hmmm?” She had been emptying the can carousel under the sink and had to turn to face Jeff's smug shovel-face.

“Taco-Burger, dude. Can't believe you went back, that’s gross,” Jeff clarified

“Nah, I haven’t been back. That’s the same cup.”

“That’s worse, dude,” Jeff said as he popped the plastic lid off to confirm the finger was still there. It was indeed. “You gonna take it with you?”

“Uhhh.” The finger hadn’t crossed her mind in ages. What the hell was she going do with it?

“Can I toss it out?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

“No, I don’t want body parts left in my trash when I move, Jeff.”

Her rewording of his suggestion coaxed Jeff onto another train of thought. “Nowhere to really get rid of it here when I think about it. Do you want to just take it with you to the new place?”

“Yeah, don’t put it in the cooler with the food though.”

Roughly an hour later they were on the parkway in Jeff’s van, on their way to her new apartment. The finger was in the cupholder sitting between them. Jeff rolled down the window and glanced at Dee. She looked at Jeff then down at the cup. She flung the ice block out of the cup into the grass by the guard-rail. She sat the cup back into the cupholder and Jeff rolled up the window.