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 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 on 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 chosen
altar and holding my athami-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!

Submitted by Uni