Four words.

That’s all it took to completely change the course of my day.

Let me set the scene. It’s Sunday morning, about 10:30. I’m exhausted after leaving my second overnight shift of the weekend. I’m also hungry–not a good combination.

But things aren’t that dire. Having worked those weekend shifts, I have the next two days off. In fact, it’s more like three days off since I still had the rest of Sunday.

So I decide to attack one of my main problems, the hunger, and swing by Taco Bell on my way home. It’s an easy trip, with TB just off the main road I take home every day.

I pull into the drive thru, no line. I bark out my order, “Two Cheesy Gordita Crunches and a large Wild Cherry Pepsi.”

At this point, I am mere minutes from several foodstuffs that make me quite happy. There’s Wild Cherry Pepsi, a delicacy rarely seen at restaurants. TB just happens to be such a high-quality establishment that they offer the fine beverage. Then there’s the Cheesy Gordita Crunch, a crunchy, chewy, cheesy slice of Mexican heaven.

For years I have partaken in Taco Bell feasts, almost always involving the Mexican Pizza. But being a growing boy, I need another item to compliment the M-P. I searched and sampled, mixed it up and went through pretty much the entire menu. There was the Nacho Cheese Chalupa, the Enchirito, Spicy Chicken Burrito and the basic Crunchy Taco. All are serviceable sidekicks, but nothing tops the Cheesy Gordita Crunch as the perfect compliment to the M-P.

It’s like pairing an All-Star shooting guard with the perfect point guard. Nature is full of perfect duos. I mean, Batman is good and all, but Batman & Robin are a force to be reckoned with. The Cheesy Gordita Crunch is the perfect Robin.

Until today.

The four words that destroyed Sunday? “We don’t have those.”

WHAT.

“We don’t have those.”

Flustered and confused, my mind tried to wrap around this new reality while my stomach screamed for an alternate solution. I backpedaled and stammered, brought myself back from the brink of unconscious disbelief and managed to spit out a backup order. I was two miles down the road before I even knew what food I had chosen.

Superman is dead. The Earth revolves around Mars. Michael Jordan is a soccer player. Bacon is health food. Water is toxic. Waves move backwards into the sea. Snow is boiling hot. My world is in disarray.

I frequent Taco Bell. I have no shame in saying that. Call it what you will. Say the food is terrible, leads to lots of “thinking time,” and is not even authentic Mexican. It is what it is, and I like that.

I often go with my friend Mike, the man who introduced me to the love of my life…the Mexican pizza.

Over the past year it has become apparent that Mike has somehow wronged Taco Bell. I say that as if Taco Bell (TB) is a singular entity with somewhat human-like qualities of memory and vengeance.

Whatever happened, it must have been bad. Did he not pay correctly one time? Did he give on of the workers the stink eye? Did he blaspheme the Bell? We may never know the answer, but the result is clear.

Ever since the transgression, Mike has had a hard time getting a good meal from TB. I get a cheesy gordita crunch and I get the ranch sauce. He orders one at the same time, no sauce. This has happened at least a dozen times this year, occurring at no fewer than four separate locations.

Today we went for dinner. I got a Mexican pizza and the aforementioned cheesy gordita crunch, to go. Sauce? Check. Items in a to-go bag? Check.

Mike gets two cheesy gordita crunches, soft taco, and baja gordita, to go. No sauce on either cheesy gordita crunch. Items come out on a tray, no to-go bag.

This treatment bothers me, though I’m sure he deserves it. After all, a wonderful entity such as TB doesn’t just hate someone for no reason. So I wrote to Taco Bell asking why it hated my friend. So far, no response. Rest assured, there is some hard thinking going on inside the inner-workings of the TB, weighing how to address a wonderful customer about one that is on the outs. Stay tuned.