Two months ago, I got a letter from my friend William. The letter said,”Dear Peter, Please meet me outside the Taco Bell on 9th street next Tuesday. I have something to tell you. Sincerely, Will.” The next tuesday I stood waiting at the taco bell on 9th street. I waited and waited but he didn’t show up.
Just as I was about to walk away, Peter showed up. I asked him about the letter. He was certainly surprised, as he said,” Taco Bell? I didn’t write that. I wouldn’t go to Taco Bell as long as I-” He was interrupted by a giant, hard, taco shell hitting him in the head. I turned around and became face-to-face with a bunch of angry tacos with knives in their hands. I started running but got hit in the head by another one of those giant, hard, taco shells, and then I blacked out.
I woke up in the same room as Will, who was trying to untie some ropes around my hands, which were made out of (yes, you heard me) burger meat. Eventually he just gave up and ate the ropes. I scanned the room. The only thing I saw were tacos and a glass window. “I’m not eating those,” said Will. I tried to eat a taco, but almost cracked my tooth. Then I got an idea.
“Hey Will!” I yelled. “Throw one of those tacos at the window!” The only thing Will said in response to that was,” Why?” which was strange, because normally, he’s a talkative kid. “Remember how the taco shell knocked you out?” I replied. “ Maybe the shell could break the glass!” Will didn’t throw a taco shell, he threw a whole handful! And that did it. We climbed out of the building, ran home, and were silent for 10 minutes. Then Will broke the silence, saying,” I bet no one will believe us, right?”
It’s been two months since that happened and Will had been right: no one has believed us. I tried to make it my topic for my “memorable moments essay”, but got an F on it, because the teacher said it was fiction. And ever since, I have never gone near a Taco Bell.
The Swerve 