Your Last Supper or Taco Tuesday? We don’t need no stink-in’ badges.

Written in response to: Set your story in the kitchen of a bustling restaurant.... view prompt

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Adventure Christian Teens & Young Adult

Baking bread.

Breaking bread.

Breaking bad.

Wheat.

Stone.

Rye.


Rub some rocks together and call me in the morning.

If you awake.


The new faces of tourism have indeed changed.


The many cooks in the kitchen is starting to look wired.

The many cooks in the kitchen is admittedly conspired.

A lot.

The many cooks in the kitchen is starting to become bone-tired.

The many cooks in the kitchen is getting from there to here hot-wired.

The many cooks in the kitchen is having a pattern of getting rehired.

The many cooks in the kitchen seeks to be one of the retired.

The many cooks in the kitchen is becoming very, very dog-tired.

The many cooks in the kitchen is taking its toll on the umpired.

The many tacos eaten to date indeed has been admired.

The many tacos eaten to date have included fish above the coal-fired.

The many tacos eaten to date have not always been desired.

The many tacos displayed to date have not always been inquired.

The smell of the tacos in the air to date have initiated the suspired.


The tacos consumed to date have troubled the hard wired.


Sushi?

We don’t need no stink in’ sushi.


A hankering for a hankerchief.

Paper products are becoming pricey.

There is always our sleeve.🤧

The ever popular “farmer’s blow”.


Some higher ups moan, yawn, and ponder the kitchen cabinets. They are continually un sure about the direction of the foodie pyramid. Up. Down. Left. Right. Close the door. Open the door.


Quickly.

Or the alarm blares the ear drums.


Gotta house and feed the masses.


The treasure trove is slowly dwindling, drying up too.


The gold and silver, not far behind.


Disclaimer: Tacos are yummy. Sushi is too.


You say you want a revolution?

We are all doing what we can.

And consumption of tacos is up there on the list.

The to do list.


In the spirit of the spirit.

The Holy Spirit.

It is good and kind to our neighbor when we offer and accept a kind taco or two.

It is a different story when the bill comes-sometimes-decades later and we all of the sudden realize we consumed too much


cheese.

lettuce.

hot sauce.

beef.


Where’s the beef?

Hidden under the fish, in the tacos.

Sorry.

We though you knew.


Foreign markets+Natural resources+ Cheap Labor= A mighty tasty taco.


Decades later the bill becomes due, but where are the dues?

Doing.

Done.

Going.

Gone. (Samuel A)


Liberal.

Mexican

Administrations.

Seek to institute social reforms, including an 8-day, literacy programs and health care.


How long has this been going on?

Fancy persuasion no doubt.

And truck loads of delicious, enticing tacos.


Kiss of life?

Kiss of death?


Bazaar.

Yes.

Sweet and Sour.

Salty.

Yes.


’Neath the stars, at bazaars

Often I’ve had to caress men

Five or ten, dollars then, I’d collect

from all those yes-man

Don’t be sad, I must add, that they

meant no more than chess-men


Darling, can’t you see?

’Twas for charity?

Though these lips have made slips, it

was never really serious

Who’d have thought, I’d be brought

to a state that’s so delirious? (Ef)


In a white un marked van no doubt.

With the family in tow.

Reading to get started on the tacos asap.


Sweet or Salty.

With the fishy goodness underneath it all.

Mmm. Mmm. Yum. Yum.


A white unmarked enveloped comes in the post saying:

”Now due”

And we reply,

”Oh crap”.

If I had only known what was going down my pipes I would have thought twice.


’Bout hankering for anything other than the hankerchief.


It doesn’t mean anything.

’Cept I wonder….what does go on in some of those kitchens….?

An awful lotta white powder laying around……

Baking bread.

Breaking bread.

Breaking bad.


Desperate times call for desperate measures.


An alternative?

Many.

They bear fruit too.


Not just fruity juice either.


The hustle.

The bustle.

All means something.

All means nothing.


The real story is what is happening in the back of the vans.🤨🤨

And who looks the other way.


The Authority of the Sun.

Or.

The Authority of the Son.


I pick the later.

No taco in hand.

No sushi either.

Just yet.


Jesus said. “The Son does nothing on his own; he does only what he sees his Father doing. What the Father does, the son also does.


Tacos were not created at this time.

Bread was.

Sharing was too.

We have no excuses to pass judgment on others.


The law provides for that.

We DO need stinkin’ badges.

Most important: The ones brave enough to enforce them.


Otherwise chaos, dis order, too many tacos and not enough conscience.


Depend upon God and boast.

About yourself?

No.

The law.

Otherwise protection is left to the in experienced of us.


God only knows.

How that may turn out.

Our conduct shows.

How that may turn out.

Our conduct shows that what the Law commands is written in our hearts Our consciences also show that this is true, since our thoughts, sometimes accuse us, and sometimes defend us.


See where this can go?

When the Law of the Land is ignored?


The inexperienced take it upon themeselves to creat the order.

Especially when and if there is no leader.


The case for PB&J.


Choosey mothers choose JIF.

There are choices around.

There are filets and grade A too.


When push comes to shove.

May you push back.

But do not shove.


There are ways to conduct our conduct.

And ways to lend a hand.


An offering is a gesture of interest.

But it is not the final word.


Hunger strikes and the hungry strike back.

In the form of floury, flowery images and tastes.

Stave it off or stay hungry?


I think the ball game has changed considerably.

Nuts. Nuts. And more nuts.


And then we are all nuts.


Resist.

Defense is the best offense nowadays.

Because too many did not only stop, look and listen.

They have forgotten who broke the bread in the first place.


God will judge the secret thoughts of men.

Enjoy your taco Tuesday.

Wherever you are.

















July 18, 2023 16:35

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