Her face squishes up in disgust. "God no, guacamole is vile." I'm wounded, truly wounded. "Avocados are sacred. What do you mean guacamole is vile? I'm pretty sure repentance is required for speaking such blasphemy in a holy place like this." "Chubby's Burritos is holy?" she asks. "Yes, heathen, it is. Wait until you taste your burrito. It'll be miraculous, life changing. You'll likely weep from sheer happiness." "I had no idea. Suddenly this dinner date feels like a baptism. I feel underdressed. I should've worn my fascinator."
