DISCLAIMER:
Please note that when I send these newsletters, I'm sharing the resources, tools and information that I think can make an impact in your life. Any income or earnings statements presented are estimates of income potential only, and there is no assurance that your earnings will match the figures presented, which are given as examples. I can never be responsible for your success only you can with the resources and tool provided.
This message is NEVER sent without your request.
You're getting this email because you (or someone using your
email address) signed up for a latest updates newsletter.
You may unsubscribe or change your contact details at any time at the bottom of message
The Guy Who Tried to Return a Burrito to the Library
It started, as most legendary local tales do, with a burrito and very bad decision-making.
Mark Trenton, a man whose hobbies included overwatering houseplants and making overly confident guesses on trivia night, had one job on a rainy Thursday afternoon: return a borrowed book to the city library. The book was Quantum Physics for Impatient Idiots, and Mark had checked it out two months earlier after watching half a documentary on wormholes while mildly hungover. He didn’t make it past page eight.
He grabbed the book, slipped it into his bag, and headed out. But on the way, he got hungry. Naturally, he stopped at Taco Planet, ordered their signature “Meteor Burrito” (a tortilla the size of a tire, allegedly filled with six distinct types of beans), and shoved it in the same bag.
What Mark did not remember—thanks to hunger, podcast distraction, and possibly just being Mark—was that he left the book on his kitchen counter.
He arrived at the library, smiled at the lady at the returns desk, pulled the burrito out of the bag, and confidently dropped it into the return slot.
There was a pause. A long one. The kind of silence that makes birds stop chirping.
“Sir,” said Linda, the librarian, blinking as she stared at the half-wrapped burrito now sliding down the returns chute like a confused tortilla sled, “Was that… a burrito?”
Mark, realizing what he had done, blinked too. Then he doubled down.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s… a limited-edition edible copy. Very rare.”
Linda didn’t laugh. She picked up the emergency intercom.
“Patricia to front desk, we have a wet-food situation.”
Patricia was head librarian and notoriously unamused by everything except crossword tournaments. She arrived, looked at the burrito now oozing beans onto a return tray, looked at Mark, and said only, “Explain.”
Mark panicked. He launched into a speech about “multi-sensory learning,” and how “taste is the final frontier of literature,” and how “beans represent the molecules of quantum mechanics.” Somewhere in the middle, he quoted Einstein, incorrectly.
Patricia stared.
Linda started filming.
The video went viral that night.
It was titled: “Man Tries to Return Burrito to Library, Gives TED Talk About It”
Three million views.
People in the comments debated whether it was performance art or just a very committed mistake.
The library banned burritos. Mark was asked not to return unless supervised. Taco Planet made a limited-time “Quantum Beanrito” in his honor.
And Quantum Physics for Impatient Idiots remained on his kitchen counter—sauce-free, unread, and completely unaware of the chaos it had caused.
