DeadRooster.com

I am a virtual encyclopedia of useless information. I can carry on a conversation about almost any subject. However, there are two things I know almost nothing about. One of which is electronics. I understand the physics of electricity—atoms, electrons, protons and such—but not how the various components in an electrical device such as a television work. I always figured it was some form of witchcraft.

The other subject I know nothing about is chemistry, which is why I can’t explain what happened in my stomach yesterday when I ate two of Taco Bell’s Volcano Tacos. I’m pretty sure, though, it had nothing to do with electronics.

For the past four or five years, I’ve been really good about avoiding junk food. Oh, I’ve splurged here and there, but nothing serious. But, recently, I saw a commercial promoting Taco Bell’s new Volcano Taco. Seasoned beef, lettuce, cheese, topped-off with a cheesy-spicy yellow volcano sauce and stuffed in an elaborate red tortilla shell.

How could I resist?

For the record, I believe that, by themselves, Volcano Tacos are not only harmless, but extremely tasty. It’s when you do what I did right after I ate them that ignited what some might describe as an episode bordering on science fiction.

Across the street from the Taco Bell restaurant where I purchased and ate two of the tacos is one of my favorite places: Barnes & Noble. Since I was so close, there was no way I was going to drive away without stopping in. Unfortunately, I entered through the door that passes by the built-in Starbucks.

Now, when people think of Starbucks, they usually think of coffee; but, Starbucks also sells treats radiating with sugar, such as giant chocolate chip cookies featuring happy-faces spelled out in M & M’s.

Write this down: Do not mix giant chocolate chip cookies—even the kind that smile at you—with Volcano Tacos.

After scarfing down one of the tremendous cookies, which are roughly the same diameter as a motorcycle helmet, I began perusing the bookshelves. I meandered throughout the massive store for about twenty minutes before one of the cookie molecules began teasing one of the taco molecules and eventually they went to war in my stomach.

It began quietly, like a couple of ducklings paddling around a still pond, but quickly it escalated into to a hard churn, like a hot water bottle being squeezed back and forth. At first, I giggled because, although I could feel the contents of my stomach liquefying and moving around, it didn’t seem all that dangerous. In fact, it kind of tickled.

But, then my stomach lurched and orchestrated an alarming noise: oing-oing-oing-oingoingoingoing… A nearby woman looked up from her book and stared at me as though I had just pulled the pin on a live grenade.

I felt my bowels loosen and the blood drain from my face.

I had been in that particular store many times and knew right where the restrooms were; unfortunately, they were way on the other side of the building and I didn’t have much time before…well, the volcano erupted (if you know what I mean).

There’s a scene in the Wizard of Oz in which the hero’s are standing before the angry, flaming visage of the Great-and-Powerful Oz. The Cowardly lion, trembling in his fluff, can take no more and finally freaks out. He runs through a shiny corridor of the Emerald Palace while power-pumping his arms and legs more furiously than any man or beast ever caught on film.

I ran like that Cowardly Lion all the way to the restroom where I headed straight for the handicapped stall with the sturdy handrails.

The rest is kind of a blur, but I do remember walking ballerina-tip-toe style all the way to my car in the parking lot.

I’m not sure if having a keen sense of chemistry would have prevented this episode from happening, but can’t some electronic genius invent a food scanner that warns against incompatibilities? Volcano Tacos with Chocolate Chip Cookies: Do Not Eat!

Update 10/28/2008: Taco Bell’s Volcano Taco has been discontinued! Noooo!