The Great Breakfast Taco Hunt (excerpt)

Joe had never been in the basement of Mulberry Baptist Church. Today would change that. You see today he turned the magnificently amazing age of thirteen. Why just yesterday he would not have been allowed to navigate the steep stairs that led to basement of the hundred year old church. The basement housed the church kitchen, the maintenance office and the room where the Teen Sunday School class gathered. Joe’s old class, the youth group met in the new building that had been constructed behind the old church. It was a nice new building, but Joe knew he wanted to join the teens in the main building’s belly. He loved to explore and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to discover the mysteries that would surely live downstairs. But just as important was the kitchen, for it was here that what is believed to be the best breakfast taco in the whole town is crafted. Sundays past provided glazed donuts to the members of the youth group. Now Joe didn’t complain about a glazed doughnut but a breakfast taco...well a breakfast taco meant you were growing up. What a great birthday this would be!

Joe bounded up the front stairs to the church ahead of his father and two younger sisters. “Come on Dad,” Joe yelled over his shoulder, “we are going to be late!”

They weren’t going to be late. His father was never late for anything; Joe wanted to be sure he would have time to get a breakfast taco before classes began.

“Slow down birthday boy, we have plenty of time.” His father replied with a smile on his face. He knew from where his son’s urgency stemmed. Jake Walker had grown up in Mulberry Church, he remembered the first Sunday when, as a new teenager, he had been allowed downstairs. They weren’t serving breakfast tacos way back then but the fascination of the basement had been just as alluring for him as it was now for his son; not only his son but for every boy or girl that promenaded into their  teen years  while attending Mulberry Baptist Church. And even though Jake had felt the basement’s draw himself nearly thirty years ago he could still not understand what it was that caused this feeling of eagerness in so many children.

“Dad, can I have a dollar to buy a breakfast taco? Please!” Joe said with his hand extended.

“I guess, after all it is your birthday.” Jake handed his son a five dollar bill. “Do you know where to go?”

“I think so. But don’t worry Dad,” Joe smiled, “remember I was born an explorer.”

Joe’s mom had been killed two years earlier in a plane crash. Her favorite pet name for their first born had been The Great Explorer. She had told Joe hundreds of times that he arrived five weeks premature because he was born to explore.

“All right then Joe, commence your great breakfast taco hunt. Get one for your sisters too, and bring me one. We can have full bellies before Sunday school begins.”

“You want me to bring them back now?” Joe almost whined, “I will be late if I do that.”

“You have plenty of time son. “

What Joe’s father didn’t know was that his son had hoped that by arriving early to church, as usual, he would have time to do some exploring in the basement. He looked at his father and down at his sisters. His enthusiasm was momentarily replaced with exasperation, but the smiles of his two little sisters beaming up at their big brother, their teenage brother, was enough to extinguish the exasperation before it could grow.

“Okay Dad, I’ll be right back.” And with that Joe ran down the long corridor that leads to the basement stairs.

J

oe opened the heavy door and looked down the steep stairwell. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit passage. The lighting had not been added until the fiftieth anniversary of Mulberry Church, and it had not been updated since then. The thick stone walls made it difficult to add the wiring that would be needed to modernize the basement area or the stairwell.

Joe tried to listen for any sounds coming from the rooms below. Silence was all that came up the stairs. They had arrived at the church almost thirty minutes before most others; his father hated being late, so it was likely the basement was empty. Carefully he stepped down onto the first tread; it creaked loudly in the silence. Joe had been warned how steep the stairs were, the runs were short and the risers deep. It was because of this precarious construction that children were not allowed beyond the door. But Joe wasn’t a child anymore, today is his birthday he reminded himself before continuing his dissent.

Halfway down, Joe’s nose detected the smell of bacon, bacon that would sit on top of the eggs, eggs that would sit on top of the tortilla. Then all that topped with freshly grated cheddar cheese! Joe quickened his dissent.

At the bottom landing the hallway way provided Joe with three choices in which direction to take. Straight ahead, the hallway continued for some distance. It didn’t appear as if any lights were on in this direction so Joe looked to his left and right. To his right, through the only open door, he could see a brightly lit large room which he was sure was the classroom. To his left he could see the double doors at the end of the hallway that led to the kitchen. Two other doors lined the hallway, one on the left and one on the right, both closed. The sign on the door to the right read “Luke’s Office”; on the left the sign read “Maintenance”.

Joe walked to the double doors and peered through the plastic windows. The smell of bacon frying filled the air. For the birthday boy this was the most incredible aroma to ever reach his nostrils. He placed his hand on the door to the right and pushed.

“Hey, where are you going?” A voice bellowed from behind him.