Is a taco REALLY a taco?  I mean really, what is a taco?  Does anyone really know what a taco is?  Maybe, a taco is really a tree.  Who makes these decisions? 

I was walking through the woods, amongst the tall tacos when I saw a lovely butterfly fluttering it’s gracious wings through the air.  The butterfly was so free, it made me wish I were a butterfly so I could fly through the air without a care in the world.  When I got tired, I could just land on a taco branch and rest until I was ready to fly again.  I could tease the wild animals, flying just out of their reach.  Wouldn’t it be great to fly just out of the reach of a bear?  To drive that silly bear crazy with it’s fruitless efforts to swat me with his large paw.  Ahhhh… that’s the life.