Steal Tacos at Swordpoint

One of the better headlines this week comes from San Antonio, TX: “Texan Arrested for Brandishing Sword, Demanding Tacos.”

That’s right! In a state where even toddlers carry guns, some jackass decided to go full-throttle 1500 with a sword. To steal tacos.

We do not yet know all of the facts regarding this case, because unfortunately most newspapers refuses to delve further. Perhaps one day I will start my own newspaper which exclusively covers issues pertaining to swordplay, robots, and monkeys, but until then we’re left to speculate about Adam Kramer, San Antonio’s “burrito swashbuckler.”

The first question which springs to mind: is this the outcome of a Medieval fair gone horribly, horribly wrong? That’s the only situation I can think of where you might happen to have a sword on you at the same time you have the urge to go eat tacos.

The next question is: why tacos? If you’re going to rob something with a sword, it really ought to be gold bullion. Or maybe even the Apple Store, because I doubt those guys have an app to stop sword-wielding maniacs. (Particularly given the crummy new iOS 7 operating system).

But perhaps the most mystifying question comes from the fact that, after demanding the tacos at the point of a rapier, he didn’t actually take any. According to news reports, after brandishing his sword, he stormed back to his truck while yelling that he would either “get free tacos, or someone would die.” Why would he throw such a fit and then not bother collecting his swag? It almost makes me question Adam Kramer’s mental stability.

Now before we invite Chuck Schumer to write an ineffective law banning swords, let’s remember that they’re useful tools which most citizens handle responsibly. For instance, when I was in college, some of my friends got a phone call from their landlord telling them to mow their lawn by the end of the weekend, or he would evict them. They had never bothered to mow their lawn, which had grown to incredible heights, to the point that neighbors were afraid African lions might be lurking around. At one point I think a county fair even opened a maze in their lawn and charged admission.

To their credit, my friends had tried to stall the growth of the grass in their yard by occasionally yelling at it, but Bermuda grass is almost entirely deaf. Hence why their landlord called. So, like any dutiful college students, they forgot about mowing the lawn entirely until around 10:45 that Sunday night. This is where the swords came in. After only a few moments to consider their plight and three or four six packs, they charged into the front lawn with sabers and started whacking away at the grass. They spent the next three or four hours getting progressively drunker, hacking at the overgrown lawn until it looked like they’d been fertilizing their yard with chemotherapy.

Did it solve the problem? Of course not. Even with three hours of work and nearly seven six packs of beer, they lawn still looked horrible. But when the landlord showed up to chew them out, there they were, sweaty and drunk and flailing around their front porch with sabers. So the landlord quietly walked away and called a lawn mower service, then deducted the bill from their security deposit. See? Everybody won.

As for myself, my friend Michael Ferrell gave me a sword as a high school graduation present, which I have used responsibly on many occasions. For instance, when I visit my family’s lake house in northeast Oklahoma, I sometimes wander down to the shore and club carp with it.

For a while I used it as a letter opener, which is a very dramatic way of handling your correspondence. I abandoned the habit when I realized that opening my letters with a sword posed a health concern if the contents were bills, as I grew progressively angrier. And hungry.

Hungry for tacos.