A Review of the Chipotle I Just Robbed

Posted on January 14, 2015 by Chris Derricks! in Food, Reviews // 2 Comments

Yo, if you’re some lame ass square then it’s time to shut off your internet, because now Chris Derricks is in the house!!! You got a problem with that then you can put your hate mail into a SASE and shove into your own eye! I got no time for disrespect. What I do got time for though is delicious food. You bitches stick by me and I’ll tell you all about the tastiest shit you can shove into your teeth cave.

All right, let’s get down to business. If you live in America then you probably know about Chipotle. If you’re unfamiliar with that because you’re in Mexico or someplace, then I am so sorry. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we have Chipotle. It’s a restaurant featuring all sorts of delicious wonders that you could only dream of.

America – home of the burrito!

Last weekend, after extricating myself from a bed just packed with sluts, I found myself with quite the appetite. And when I get hungry, there’s only one thing to do: summon my mandatory six-man Chris Derricks Food Review Crew!

In no particular order and various shapes and sizes my crew are: Pinky, Slapface, Teeter, Totter, Nugget, and Frank. These bros have been at my back since I started this gig and they have consistently ensured that I’ve been able to review everything with the highest degree of integrity and shit. So when I got the munchies I called up my boys and we all piled into Nugget’s Cadillac and tore ass down to our local Chipotle.

Location:

By the time we arrived we had already polished off the mini bar inside Nugget’s glovebox. We still had our shit pretty together though, and we only had to push like two kids out of the way before we got through the front door. Inside, the exquisite fragrances of sizzling meats washed over us like a scented hug. We jump-kicked our way through the line and slammed up against the counter. I licked my chops like they were lady parts. Now the only thing between me and delicious tortilla-wrapped heaven was a thick glass sneeze shield and a skinny ass white kid with a serving spoon.

“Hi welcome to Chipotle I’m Trenton what can I get started for you?” he asked in a voice that changed pitch halfway through the sentence.

“Two burritos!” I shouted. “One to eat now and one to throw out the window of a speeding car at some homeless bitch!”

I high-fived each member of my crew four times each. That Trenton kid put tortillas on the grill.

All right, so for you chumps unawares, the greatest part about Chipotle is that they lay all their ingredients out in front of you and then you pick which ones go in your burrito by screaming them at the dude that works there. I karate chopped the air as I rattled off my order.

“Brown rice! Black beans! Steak chunks! Corn salsa! Medium salsa! Hot salsa! Sour cream! Cheese! Guacamole! More salsa! You try to give me lettuce and I’ll punch you right in your future kids!”

My harried burrito slave danced around with his serving spoons as he tried to remember everything I’d said. I had gone back to high-fiving my crew when the little punk mumbled something that cut right through my tequila haze.

Price:

I spun around. “Yo! What did you just say to me?”

“Uh, I said that guacamole is $1.95 extra, is that all right?”

I stared at him for a long time then shouted, “Eat my fuck!”

“Sir?”

“You raised your guac price, asshole!”

He took a slight step back from the counter. “Well, yeah. Yeah they did. Like a couple years ago.”

“Two dollars?” I shouted. “Two dollars for guacamole?! Who the hell do you think you are? This is a war crime!”

“Hey man, I didn’t have anything to do with it. I just scoop stuff. You can not get the guacamole, you know.”

I puffed up, arms crossed. “Where do you get off, you bastard? Charging people that much for a scoop of guac?!”

He sighed. “Look, all of our ingredients are high-quality, mostly organic, and sustainably farmed. So yeah, it’s going to be a little more pricey than Taco Bell. Sorry.”

“Bullshit! That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I think you’re underestimating how free range our chickens are.”

I danced around in rage. “All right, well the you best put a gallon of guacamole on there then to make it all right!”

Trenton shrugged. “Sorry man, I can’t. I can give you one standard scoop, just like everyone else.”

My body froze entirely. One scoop. One scoop?!

All right, now look – I ain’t no cheapskate. I make enough money a year to feed several third world countries and I have a company credit card with literally (figuratively) no limit. I know how to spend money. But I also know when I’m gettin’ ripped off, ya dig? Paying $2 for guacamole is a crime against humanity. Paying $2 for guacamole is what drove Moses and his bros out of Egypt. Paying $2 for guacamole is what all that rioting in Ferguson was about. The day I spend more than, I dunno, $1.50 on guacamole is the day my soul withers and dies inside of this pitiful fleshy husk.

Atmosphere:

The shiny pistol (engraved with my initials, thank you very much) was in my hand and flailing around in the air before I was even fully aware of what was happening. My crew swelled behind me, following my lead and whipping out guns of their own (Pinky only had a Nerf pistol, but he was way more aggressive with it than the rest of us so he made up for it). The attention of everyone in the restaurant quickly shifted to us, followed closely by several screams.

“Yo, listen!” I said. “If everybody just stays calm then the only thing getting hurt here is corporate greed! You!” I tapped Trenton’s nose with the barrel of the gun. “I want a burrito with just guacamole in it. Nothing else. Just a huge glob of the green stuff.”

Trenton blinked. “I… Seriously? This is the battle you’re fighting?”

Pinky shot a foam dart at his feet. “That was a warning shot!” he growled.

I pulled the hammer back on my real gun and Trenton gulped. “Okay man, okay. Just don’t kill me, all right? That would be the stupidest way to die I can imagine.”

While he went about grabbing a fresh tortilla and pumping it full of juicy guac, I turned to address the rest of the people in the building. I held my arms out wide. “Now everybody listen! Don’t be cowed by Chipotle’s profiteering agenda n’ shit! Paul Revere did not sail the Mayflower across the Delaware just so that his descendants could be overcharged for burrito toppings! This is America! We invented guacamole! And now you’re telling me that I gotta pay two goddamn dollars for it?!”

“Yeah!” shouted Slapface. “This is oppression!”

“I don’t think any of that is true…” Trenton said.

I gave him a look down the barrel of my gun and he went back to scooping guacamole in silence. Soon he was finished and a pound and a half of green goop sat in the middle of the tortilla before him. He stared down at it, a look of broken awe upon his face.

“Oh God, this is probably a hundred and fifty dollars worth of guacamole.”

“You’re damn right is,” I said. “And you best make six more of these! Gots to feed my crew, yo!”

The boys at my back all hooted and hollered and fired a few shots into the ceiling. I imagine Trenton must have pissed himself. He sighed and grabbed more tortillas. A few of his corporate-slave cohorts moved to help him. As they worked, I looked around the restaurant. Everybody was staring at me, rooted in place by my crew’s arsenal. I glanced at the partially eaten food that sat in front of each of them. Horrified, I noticed that some of it didn’t even contain guacamole at all!

It was then, as they looked upon me, that I saw something else in their eyes besides fear and derision. I saw hope.

I whirled around toward the Chipotle clowns. “Yo! Change a plans!” I shouted. “We gonna Robin Hood this shit! Free guacamole for everyone!”

There were a lot less cheers from the abused customers than I had expected. The employees all groaned. “Jesus Christ, man,” Trenton said.

“You fat cats have been living large on the money you’ve forced these hard workin’ people of the streets to fork over for basic necessities like guacamole! Your reign ends today!”

Trenton said, “Literally no one is going to respect you in prison, you know that right?”

“Yo, and pass over some a those bottles of tequila you got back there! We got a revolution to celebrate!”

Food Quality:

While the Chipotle shills went to work making guacamole burrito after guacamole burrito, my crew stood around drinking Patron from the bottle and yelling about the rights of the people and shit. As they finished making the burritos we handed them out to everyone in the restaurant, liberating these good patrons from avocado based extortion.

One guy started to say, “I actually don’t even like-” but I bitch slapped him with a tube of guacamole until he was grateful.

“Right!” I shouted. “Me an’ my crew gonna take off now! If you oppressed masses want to exact vengeance upon your corporate overlords, well they’re right there on the other side of the counter! Tear ’em apart!”

Nobody made much of a move to get up and incite anarchy, but I figured that’s because they were probably just shy. I fired a goodbye shot into the ceiling and left the restaurant.

When we got to the car we restocked Nugget’s glovebox with stolen tequila and then promptly re-emptied it. As we sped away we gorged ourselves on the all-guacamole burritos. They didn’t hold together too well and spilled all over the leather seats of Nugget’s Caddy, but it wasn’t that big a deal because later we burned the whole thing to get rid of evidence anyway.

I’ma be honest though, much as I love Chipotle and much as I love guacamole, these burritos weren’t the best. I think it’s probably because they could have used some meat or cheese or something. I’ll admit I got a bit ahead of myself there.

Now, you gotta be wondering if all this was worth it. If this was too petty of a thing to take a stand on. Well shit, ‘course it wasn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it! There’s some heavy principles here, yo. I believe that paying less then $2 for guacamole is an inalienable human right, and I will defend that right, no matter the repercussions. Am I worried ‘bout facing 3-5 years in County? Hell no! I work for The Double Thumb, yo! I got the best lawyers there is, and they’ve got me off from stuff way worse than this before. Eat MY green goop, Chipotle. I’m Chris Derricks!