You may think you know how tortillas are made, but you’d be wrong. Well, you’d be mostly wrong. When the sun is out, the factories hum along as most factories do, using machinery and electricity. After dark, when the third shift comes on, the factory shifts to more authentic means of production. Sort of.
The third shift is the special shift, the one that actual gets out stones and water and lard and the other things that goes into making tortillas by hand. This is why you should always, if you have the means, buy tortillas produced during the night hours. If you don’t know how to figure out which batches were produced during the night shift, that’s classified info. Perhaps a delegate from the Illuminati will be in touch to welcome you into the club. Otherwise, may luck be on your side.
No one really knows how this arrangement came to be, they just know that it started when an enterprising vampire known only as Amiga approached a factory owner with a proposition. Living eternally offers many options for personal enrichment, but one still has to work for it and vampires aren’t afraid of a hard day’s, or night’s, work. Unlike the opulence portrayed by Hollywood, real vampires know they have to put their noses, or teeth, to the grindstone. Inherited wealth is just as much a problem for them as it is for humans. There’s always that one generation that doesn’t appreciate what they’ve been bequeathed and squanders the family fortune on lofty schemes involving destroying the sun.
Amiga, not predisposed toward such lofty schemes, saw an opportunity and took it. Who better to create delicious authentic tortillas in the dark of night, with superhuman strength and speed‒and without the temptation to eat the product‒than a team of vampires? Thus, a partnership was born.
No one knows if Amiga still roams the earth, though her legacy lives on. And while her contributions to the culinary world remain mostly unknown, she remains an icon, one whose myriad strengths and skills can be listed in a bulleted list peppered with buzzwords and jargon. She is the mother of artisanal cooking, and of wraps, though that’s a story for another day.
“Iconic” is the new “amazing.” Do not hesitate to use it frequently. You may place “literally” before it for full impact on social media replies.
— Anna Grace (@graceupongracie) September 25, 2018
Though she didn’t partake of her creation, she did deploy it in other ways.
I always like to tinker a bit with new recipes. Weaponizing I think they call it.
— Annie Hatfield (@HatfieldAnne) January 19, 2016
You wouldn’t think this pitch would work, but it was extremely effective when it came to creating demand.
I think a lot more people would be happy if they just gave in to the madness.
— Marriedballs McGinty 💏 (@IronballsMcGinT) May 18, 2018
Not all her strategies worked. You have to be willing to try new things, though.
in 1991 my blood was transfused with 5.2 liters of zima, an experiment that was wholly & completely unnecessary
— Sunshine Jarboly (@SunshineJarboly) September 19, 2018
Strategies like this, for example.
I’ll donate my body to science but only if they promise to drop it randomly from the sky at 60,000 feet when they’re done with me.
— FRONT TOWARD ENEMY (@armyVet1972) September 19, 2018
Only if you’re a mortal. Otherwise, it’s a potential goldmine.
Making a difference sounds exhausting.
— Tony™ 🐜🍯 (@tsm560) September 16, 2018
Of course, taking over a factory isn’t usually instantaneous and the transition could produce some difficult circumstances. In such situations, hope for clouds.
Oh Bananarama sucks, does it?!
Pistols at dawn.
— Nonchalant Charlotte (@jellybnbonanza) September 10, 2018
In less hostile interactions, this strategy also works.
Establish early on that you’re the one that brings the store bought veggie tray, trust me
— OldCardigan (@MizzusT) September 4, 2018
As does this one.
My use of instant pots has been widely criticized by the uncreative in such ways as “aggressive” and “get that steaming demon gizmo out of the bathroom.”
— J™ (@CommonSavant) September 3, 2018
If things escalate, this one does, too.
"Gray Matters!" I exclaim, as I toss your freshly harvested brain to my rabid pack of capybaras
— taffy bennington ◬ (@singwithTaffy) July 11, 2015
Which isn’t to say that Amiga was singularly focused. She was a font of creativity, and sometimes lesser ideas arising from a stubborn belief in phrenology.
For forty dollars I’ll give you an in-depth psychological profile based on your haircut.
— Burning Mom (@MomOnFire) September 18, 2018
Not that the early adopters minded, especially given their sleep schedules.
It is a good life–being shot from a cannon every morning, landing in the nets each night.
— Wondering (@stillwondering1) September 26, 2018
Potlucks and battles over Bananarama weren’t the only struggles for the vampires when working alongside normies. There was also the aroma, and not of warm tortillas.
Sometimes I wear perfume, sometimes I wear Febreze.
— Sadie Smith 2.0 (@SadieSkyNinja) September 19, 2018
On the other hand, there are always coworkers who crave adventure, even if they’re a little grand in their expectations.
One cool accident away from super villian. One bad decision away from supervisor.
— Justin (@ThePocketJustin) September 18, 2018
Some, though, had the right idea.
I’m not in this for the money and glory, apparently.
— Lost In Aisle Three (@LostInAisle3) September 10, 2018
Be wary of anyone who stops talking ever, for any reason. Trust me on this.
I just keep on digressin'.
— Mrs. Fitz (@PFitzpa) August 31, 2018
When starting a vampire-driven tortilla empire, be prepared for some casualties. Literally.
Out of the office reply: Do you have any idea what you just did?
— antisocialsocialist (@gobmentcheese) September 5, 2018
Fortunately, you can easily refute such claims if you’re prepared.
Yes, I see, fascinating, very elaborate, really interesting conclusion to draw on the basis of no evidence or effort whatsoever.
— Jackson Crawford (@Norsebysw) September 4, 2018
Especially if you’re skilled at the art of the surprise.
A smile can turn someone's day around, especially if you're hiding in their closet.
— Casey Duncan (@caseytduncan) August 29, 2018
If someone responds like this, she’s ready for her Illuminati welcome package, assuming she can make tortillas. This isn’t a game, at least mostly it’s not.
There’s fuckery afoot.
— heather lou* (@heatherlou_) May 2, 2018
A modicum of doubt is acceptable.
I am touching all the handrails at this amusement park to test my immortality
— bombsy (@bombsydoll) September 2, 2018
Look, that was an unfortunate occurrence. There’s a reason factories have those “X Days Since the Last Accident” signs.
Being a myth is easier than one might think. Maybe because it only happens by accident. Whatever it is.
— Cat From Nowhe®e (@kv8) September 3, 2018
Move the quotation marks so they’re only around “life” and your future will be bright. Not technically, because no sun, but literally metaphorically bright.
two words: "life coach"
should've done that instead of cpa
— Her Bewitched Boots (@fuzzlime) September 16, 2018
I know we discussed blowing up the sun, but this is a bit far, okay?
Don’t shoot for the stars. That’s too short sighted. Shoot AT the stars. Use special star murdering bullets. Kill the sun. End all life as we know it. You can do it.
— Wes Crawford (@wescraw) August 31, 2018
This, on the other hand, is a solid team building activity.
And if you stare long into the abyss, the abyss also stares into you. The National Staring Contest title is on the line. This is your year.
— RunwayDan (@RunwayDan) August 31, 2018
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, robbing a bank is the best team builder, though. Maybe it can put a cap on staring into the abyss.
The first step to getting what you want is stealing it.
— Jawbreaker (@sixfootcandy) September 21, 2018
If the staring contest involves ruminants, eject. They are the greatest of all time for a reason.
Never try to look a goat in the eye.
— Type O-Meg (@Now200Meg) September 16, 2018
Okay, first, you’re supposed to stare, not yell, but solid effort at thinking outside the paradigm, shifting some boxes, etc.
I've yelled into better voids than this
— Oblivia (@aveuaskew) September 4, 2018
However, this works.
I got you, cynical gaze. I got you.
— Insignificant Funds (@4SLars) September 26, 2018
Amiga didn’t have to worry about social media. Her descendants do. Fortunately, Pinterest is there to help.
The craft you made looks like a death trap. In a cute way.
— Mary (@AnniemuMary) August 31, 2018
When building your empire, don’t be afraid of unorthodox voices. That was one of Amiga’s many keys to business.
i’m only here to find an emotional support banshee
— Jeff Newton (@yonewt) September 14, 2018
Strengths, weaknesses, tomato, tomahto.
I was using a q-tip and went in too deep in my ear, and now I can't do math.
— Mollzotov Cocktail (@mollzbenn) August 31, 2018
Just remember, conventional thinking isn’t your friend. Don’t be afraid to be rad.
Once my brother and I tied a beanie baby to 17 bottle rockets and launched it about the length of a football field and planted a small flag where it landed. One small step for man.
— The soul of America speaks. (@signalborder) August 31, 2018
For when a door closes, it will probably open again. If not, there’s a button or something.
Each time I exit an elevator I treat it like a new lease on life.
— TWirt (@wirtersblock) September 20, 2018
Regardless, enjoy the ride.
A good ice breaker in a quiet elevator is to scream until it gets to your floor.
— K∀RL∀ IN VT🍁🍃🍂 (@karlainvt) September 25, 2018
And if all else fails, there’s always musical theater, which may or may not be where Amiga finished her career, even if Doritos aren’t really fried tortillas.
A gritty, urban take on The Wizard of Oz where the main character is a lovable gangbanger named Dorito and the Tin Man is eventually sold for scrap
— Swim Jeans👖 (@ShortSleeveSuit) September 7, 2018
Or maybe that is how Doritos originated. We can never really know, for while the tortilla empire remains‒make sure to check your mail for the possible Illuminati welcome package‒the rumors are that Amiga went off in search of new adventures and not just whimsical productions about redemption and robots. Not all who wander are lost or whatever.
What we can be sure of is that blowing up the tortilla industry and returning it to its ancestral roots isn’t the final frontier, especially while explosives continue to exist, though that’s also a story for another day. Stay combustible, my friends, even if it means eating a few extra tasty wraps. Just remember to also maintain plausible deniability.
I deny ever saying we should dynamite Stonehenge
— Böb Jänke (@Bob_Janke) September 22, 2018