Taco Bell’s Rattlesnake Burrito is slim and pale. Its mournful pillow-soft sleeve gives zero indication of the horror awaiting within. Upon the first bite, however, a Lovecraftian epiphany occurs: this is hellish territory that shouldn’t be explored by a mere mortal. Palate-charring jalapeños have been methodically distributed throughout the shriveled length of the Rattlesnake so that every bite delivers a crunch of what seem to be dozens of peppers. Tears spring to the eyes. The tongue flees to the rear of the mouth like a mouse dropped into a viper’s cage. And yet, out of pity perhaps, the Bell Gods have layered something else inside this fearsome serpent. Scads of skinny fries begin to make their presence known, disintegrating into a pleasant pulp that provides instant relief… but wait… then comes a crunch of a different color. Of course, the Gods were merely jesting! The fries themselves have been sandblasted with a spicy topping. The burrito-eater will grope for something else to succor their singed tongue. How about the steak and cheese? Surely worthy contenders, particularly the latter, which possesses a silky smooth, gleefully un-cheesy texture. Sadly, neither bovine nor plasti-cheese can stop the Rattlesnake’s sizzle. The ‘peños hold dominion over all. It is best, at last, to resign oneself to the sensation. Ride the fire. See what you can learn from it. To maximize the experience, the prospective burrito-eater is advised to consume the Rattler alone in 2 a.m. darkness, denying the body any stimuli save for the roaring flames. If the beast doesn’t leave you with the fast food equivalent of phossy jaw, you might even end up feeling purified by it.
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