I need tacos. Right now.

We’re sitting at a bar. A bar that does not serve tacos.

Then obviously we must leave here and forth to a place where tacos will be provided.

Or we could stay and have wings.

Wings are not tacos.

This is true, but tacos are not wings, either.

I never said they were.

But you felt the need to point out they weren’t.

You seemed confused if you thought I would be placated in my quest for tacos by mere wings.

The wings here are excellent!

They are, but they are nothing, pale shadows of delicious, compared to the tacos of my mind.

MIND TACOS!

Yes. I shall use my mind to get tacos.

How will that work, exactly?

Uhm. Don’t bother me.

So you are just talking out of your ass here?

No! I can control tacos with my mind.

And yet you have no tacos.

An oversight!

One you’ll fix now?

Uhm. Not… here… I don’t want to startle you.

Uh-huh. Right.

Don’t mock my powerful taco powers.

I mock. I so mock.

You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.

A plate of wings. Not tacos.

Damn.

Then don’t have any wings.

Oh, I’ll have wings. I’ll just think of tacos the whole time.

So much subtext, so little time.