Gravity's Effect on Mexican Food

I had to buy an extra taco pizza so that the meal would cost ten dollars and they would deliver it. This morning, I fasten the styrofoam lid, careful to remove the staple so I can use it in the microwave. I wrap the box in a plastic grocery bag, pause, the wrap another around that one.

I realize that I will need to slide the box upright into my backpack in order to get it to work. As I stand on the train, I picture the whole meal sliding into a chunky puddle at the bottom of the box. I try to estimate the tensile strength of the taco shell, try to picture it holding all the ingredients in place.  Perhaps my faith in the coherence of all elements will be enough to hold them together.  But what doubts do I have?

When I am finally able to sit and lay my backpack flat on my lap, I realize I don't remember if I loaded the box so that the bottom was against my back, or whether I'm holding the whole works upside-down. I picture jalapenos and sour cream smearing against styrofoam.

This is Schrodinger's Taco Salad Paradox.  As long as the box remains closed, my lunch must remain simultaneously ruined and not ruined.

I do not want to open the box.

Some movies actually ARE written to corrupt the Youth - a criticalmiddle finger to "The Bad and the Beautiful"

This is your Brain on Peter Benchley