It was a dark stormy night when I was sitting home alone and I heard it growl: my stomach. There was no one else home so I was laying in my bed pondering how I could satisfy my hunger. The growls were only getting louder when I heard the door downstairs slam. My parents were home! They could take me somewhere to get food! I was making my way downstairs when I heard my father exclaim “YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING TO PROVIDE FOR THIS FAMILY!” so I tiptoed my way down the remaining stairs. When I reached the last stair the aroma filled my nose. The smell of sweet, sweet tacos filled with pico de gallo and grilled chicken were taunting my empty stomach. I knew it would be immoral to steal from my parents, especially while they were arguing, but I was desperate. As my mouth began to water I reached across the counter, just out of their view and grabbed the only remaining taco. I stuffed it under my shirt and quickly retreated back to the stairs.
I immediately stuffed my mouth with the taco and let its juicy flavors drip across my taste buds. My stomach had finally been satisfied and so had I. I was hoping in the mist of the argument my parents would have forgotten about the taco and what had become of it. I sat on the stairs to listen in on why my parents were fighting and that’s when I realized they were fighting about the taco. There was only one left and they had desired the taco as much as I did so they began fighting over who would get to eat it. My father’s argument was that he was the bread winner and the taco wouldn’t have been possible without his hard work. My mother though, believed that she maintained the household everyday while he was away therefore she deserved to be rewarded.
Realizing what I had done I turned to make a run up the stairs and into my bedroom, but I had been too late. Just as I turned I heard my father clear his throat in a sarcastic manner. Then I turned again, slowly, scared of what I would find. Both of my parents stood behind me with their arms crossed and their faces livid.
Well, to sum things up I did make it upstairs. But instead of fleeing, I am packing my bags for military school. In any regular family, a taco is just simply Mexican cuisine, but in my family taco is sacred.