How I Became A Teenage ChalupaCabra
When I first started hearing about ChupaCabras , I too thought they were real , just like the thousands of meatballs all over the world who believed in them. Let me tell you , ChupaCabras are a myth. They have since been proven to be a myth , and yet there are people who still believe they are real. Several of these so called creatures have been captured , dissected , and proven to be nothing more than mangy coyotes , or half breeds , and yet the belief in these beasts still persists.
When I was eighteen , I became a teenage ChalupaCabra. I didn't want to be a ChalupCabra. It just sort of happened , and how it happened is actually kind of funny.
I've been a fast food junkie all my life , eating at all of the fast food restaurants , devouring just about everything on the menu at all of them , and when I say devouring , imagine a cartoon beaver with buck teeth chomping through a cord of wood with the speed and sound of a power saw. That was me. I would eat until I couldn't walk - literally.
For several years , McDonald's , and Burger King were two of my favorites. I would frequent these weekly while hanging out around the city at night , with my friends. When I finally developed some responsibility in my life and got a job , I began buying junk food by the tons at the neighborhood grocery store. Ours was Sav-ons , which was just around the corner from where I lived. And when I say tons of junk food , I mean that literally. I would pile my cart to over flowing with donuts , cakes , pies , cookies , packages of different kinds of cheeses , lunch meats , and cereals. Anything and everything that was filled with sugar and fat , I tossed it in the cart. And more often than not , I couldn't wait to get everything past check out , to start chomping down.
Whenever I made my mad dash around the store , I would tear open package after package , and gorge myself . Empty packages , candy wrappers , cookie and donut boxes , and half eaten cereal boxes would be strewn up and down every isle , their contents also strewn around the floor , and my face and clothes would be smeared with frosting , pie filling ~ I would eat cakes and pies whole , as if I were at a pie eating contest ~ and pasta sauces. People would stare at me like I was an idiot or something , but I didn't care. All I cared about was satisfying the Junk Food Beast in me. But , as I would later find out , it could not be satisfied.
When Taco Bell added the chalupa to their menu , my friends were among the first to try it. Three of them said I had to try one. Two said they were okay , and the third said they tasted like ca - ca. So I tried one , then two , then three. I thought they tasted good. Not like Mexican crap at all. Before I knew it , I was wolfing them down faster than Roseanne could polish off a six pack.. I couldn't get enough of the damn things. I was hooked on them like a junkie was hooked on cocaine. I couldn't think of anything but chalupas. They were engraved on my brain like crack was to a crack whore. I not only ate chaulpas , but I dreamed about them every night. One night , I dreamed I was being buried alive in a sea of chalupas. But , instead of panicking , I enjoyed it ; I welcomed it. And , eventually , I devoured my way to the top of that sea of chalupas , and when I woke up , there was a huge crap eating grin on my face. I remember thinking it was the most satisfying dream I had ever had - without an orgasm , of course , and I've had plenty of those.
Over the next few days , my unnatural craving for chalupas was getting worse and worse. I no longer wanted to spend time with my friends , or go to work. When I wasn't eating chalupas , I was listless , and tired. All I wanted to do was sleep and dream of my precious chalupas. I wondered what was wrong with me. One morning , I woke up and looked in the mirror. There was hair on my body where there shouldn't have been! The back of my hands , and my entire face! I looked like Scruffo The Dog Faced Boy at the Ringly Ding and Dangly circus. What were they putting in those damn things? I wondered.
My parents freaked the first time they saw me that way , ran into their bedroom to hide , and called the animal shelter. I woke up two days later from a drug hangover , dazed and confused. But I was back to normal again ; my face and hands were completely hairless. The handlers were baffled as to how I had ended up in one of their cages ( and were even more baffled as to how the large , wolf like dog had had gotten out ) , and to tell the truth , so was I. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there. I found out later after I called my parents to come pick me up. They told me that a strange , wild dog had somehow gotten into the house. My mother swore up and down it looked like a werewolf. She had always been an avid Stephen King fan , and more than a bit loopy. I told them that the strange dog had been me , an obvious side effect ( that had obviously worn off during my stay in the shelter ) of my lustful cravings for chalupas. I didn't know how else to explain it. But they didn't believe me. I couldn't really blame them , though. I must have sounded like a lunatic. Even I wouldn't have believed it , if it hadn't happen to me.
Even though the transformation had worn off during my stay in the shelter , the cravings , did not. They were more powerful than ever. As soon as I could , I jumped on the bus and headed for Taco Bell - with visions of chalupas dancing in my head - where I proceeded to stuff my face until I literally couldn't walk anymore. I wolfed down nearly two dozen of the damn things - quicker than Roseanne could stuff a whole pizza down her throat- embarrassing myself , as people gawked at me , no doubt wondering what was the matter with me.
Less than an hour later , the thick hair had returned. Soon it was growing faster than I could shave it off. And thicker , too. Not only was I starting to look like a cur , but I smelled like one too! No matter how hard I scrubbed , I couldn't wash the stink away!
A few days passed , and the unnatural hair continued to grow. Now it wasn't just appearing on my hands and face , but on my entire body! I stood in front of the mirror one morning , and wondered what was happening to me. I looked worse than I had before. My eyes were as blood shot as an old wino's. I was developing incisors , and my tongue was so long that it actually protruded from my mouth! Any moment now , I was afraid I would start panting , or start scratching myself with a hind leg. I looked worse than Scruffo. Now I looked like Sasquatch. Like Chewbacca on steroids. My hands and feet were twice as large , and where my nails were , claws began to appear!
I was forced to stop going to work , because the hair was growing back so fast , that and the fact that the effect was no longer wearing off when I wasn't consuming chalupas. I was embarrassed to be seen in public , and to be truthful , I was afraid that someone would mistake me for a wolf and shoot me on sight , or that I would get picked up by the animal shelter again. If I did , I knew I would be in there possibly for the rest of my life. So , for the next two days , I stayed locked in my room , and desperately thought about what I should do. But , of course , nothing came to mind. And every night I dreamed about my precious chalupas , and gorged myself like a kid on Halloween night.
It wasn't long before my boss was wondering why I wasn't showing up for work. Several times my mother would pound on the door , screaming that he was threatening to fire me if I didn't get my lazy ass to work. I knew I had to get back to work , but I couldn't go looking like this , like Lon Chaney in The Wolf Man. If I did , someone would be sure to call the animal shelter again , and this time I would probably be shipped off to the Ringly Ding And Dangly Circus , where I would , no doubt , become a companion to the real Scruffo The Dog Faced Boy!
On the second night , I woke up sweating. The thick hair on my face and body , felt like it was glued on. I had the recurring chalupa dream again. I heard myself muttering , "Must have chalupa , must have chalupa!"
I hadn't had a single chalupa in two days , and my craving was overwhelming. The day before , I had to settle for whatever I could find , raiding the fridge in the middle of the night so I wouldn't frighten my parents. I left it empty , but my hunger had not been satisfied. My craving for chalupas was just too strong. They called to me , like the mythical sirens called to ancient Greek sailors , like the craving of alcohol to an old wino.
For a while , I stared at the ceiling , thinking of chalupas. I was drooling without realizing I was drooling. I chewed on the pillow , imaging that it was a chalupa , and before I realized it , I managed to shred pieces of it with my teeth and claws. Finally , I could stand it no longer. I had to have a chalupa. Not one. Not two. Not even three. But a whole truck load! I wanted the chalupa dream to become a reality. I wanted to dive into a sea of chalupas , and eat my way to the surface. And , most of all , I wanted to feel that crap eating grin again.
I sprang off the bed , and crept to the door. My mind was made up. I had to get some chalupas , or die trying. But I hoped it didn't come to that. Which meant that I would have to leave the house , and be seen. Thankfully , it was after midnight , and there wouldn't too much traffic at that hour.
Before leaving the house , I decided to raid the fridge one last time. It was stocked full again. The day before , my mother had banged on my door , demanding to know if I had been the one responsible for the fridge being empty. I had vehemently denied it , but I knew she didn't believe me.
I tore open packages , and cartons , and containers , as quietly as I could , and wolfed everything down faster than any cur ever ate. Even though I wasn't making too much noise , my cleanliness left much to be desired. Everything I ripped open , I tossed onto the floor , not worrying about what my parents might think , or do when they saw the mess. All I could think about was satisfying the insatiable hunger that could never be satisfied by anything other than chalupas.
I closed the fridge , and tipsy toed toward the door. The clicking of my clawed toes on the wooded floor , sounded startlingly loud in the stillness , causing me to wince , hoping it didn't disturb my parents. However , I didn't get more than a few steps ... before running right into my mother! She screamed as if she had been confronted by the Devil in the flesh. I had no doubt that's who she thought I was.
"Harold!" she screamed. "That werewolf's back! Get your shot gun!"
I nearly jumped through the ceiling. I tried to tell her that it was me , not a werewolf from a Stephen King story. But all that would come out was a growl. By now , Dad was running toward me with his shot gun. "Get out of the way , Gladys! I'll send that cur straight to the pearly gates! Move , woman!"
The very idea of my father shooting me , must have been too much for me. Apparently , I had blacked out , and couldn't remember what happened after that. The next thing I remembered , was waking up in a cage at the animal shelter , with a small dog licking my face.
"Beat it , Fido!" I said , pushing the cur away. I got to my feet , feeling groggy , like I was half asleep or fighting off a hangover.
"Not again ," I groaned. I struggled to my feet and shook the door of the cage. "Hey! Let me outta here!"
Every dog in the place responded immediately. It took a little longer for someone to investigate who was doing the yelling. A pimple face kid , no older than eighteen or nineteen , finally showed up.
"Hey! I remember you , dude! How did you get back in there?" And where did that big dog go that was in there?"
"How should I know! Just let me outta here."
"Hold your horses , dude!" he said. He took his sweet time unlocking the cage , and after he did so , I pushed past him , almost knocking him down. "You don't have to be so rude , dude!"
"Sorry , dude." Before anyone could stop me , I hurried out of the building , without calling my parents. I had a feeling I wouldn't be allowed to do that a second time. And sure enough , I was right. The pimply faced kid had followed me outside , and was chasing after me.
"Hey! Where do you think your going , dude?! Come back here , dude!"
I ran to the bus stop as fast as I could , promising myself never to touch another chalupa. I had to go cold turkey. It wasn't easy. After a few days without them , I went into with drawl , like a junkie without drugs. I even suffered hallucinations , all of them having to do with chalupas. But gradually , the cravings and hallucinations disappeared , and I am now chalupa free!
That was a year ago , and I haven't had one since. And that was how I became a teenage ChalupaCabra.
