Back when I was dating Poor Kyle he casually mentioned how well he enjoyed a delicious order of Taco Bell’s Fries Supreme.
“What are Fries Supreme?” I asked.
“Well they’re like nachos, only instead of using tortilla chips they use french fries.”
“SHUT UP,” I exclaimed, “there is no way on earth that that could possibly exist!”
“What do you mean?” he replied, “They’re delicious!”
“Not possible,” I maintained.
“Are you telling me that they don’t exist in the States?”
“Not in any state I’ve ever seen,” I declared, “and it’s a dang good thing, ’cause that shiz sounds NASTAY.” (I may have been going through a bit of a white-girl gangster phase. Forgive me friends, I knew not what I did.)
Fast forward a few years. I married Poor Kyle despite his affinity for adulterated french fries, and some time later he finally talked me into at least *trying* them. He ordered them with his meal and coerced me into taking just one bite, arguing that if I really didn’t like it there was no harm done, and if I loved it we could go through the drive through for another order.
My friends?
We drove through that drive through.
Taco Bell Fries Supreme are the perfect combination of crispy and saucy, salty and spicy, hot fries and chilled sour cream, heaven and HEAVEN. They were conceived in the mind of a culinary genius, born into this world with unassuming style, shunned and rejected by many, no doubt, but I’m telling you they are heaven-sent.
If you don’t live in Canada, move here. Take a pay cut, uproot your family, live out of a cardboard box if you have to. Taco Bell Fries Supreme are worth it.
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