Her incredulity bordered on awe. The scripture had been rewritten. We’d have to update the bible she leaves in the console of her truck. Revelations 5:9 “And they sang a new song, saying: the sandwiches at Tim Horton’s are actually quite good. And this soup! What is this? Sweet Potato Bisque, huh. You can really taste the sweet potato. Sweetie, how’s your turkey bacon thing?”

She asked as though she already knew the answer. As if it was preordained that I was to be converted. That I would, oh God, take this whole wheat homestyle soft bun as the body, this French vanilla ice cappuccino as the blood, and Timmy as my new fast food Lord and Saviour. I didn’t want to submit. I would be an apostate wandering a wilderness of strip malls and road stops in search of a semi-quality burrito if I had to. Even Taco Del Mar would do. But there was something there, I couldn’t deny it. The turkey bacon thing wasn’t that bad. It’s not that bad, Ma. I said. Amen.