The Great Inflate

The sky is the limit.


Whenever a group of friends is deciding on where to eat lunch, someone inevitably suggests Chipotle.

"Hey, what about Chipotle?" someone will say.

"Oh my gosh yes! I haven't had Chipotle in so long!" someone else will say.

"Yeah, Chipotle is amazing. We have to go," a third someone will chime in.

"If we don't go to Chipotle right now, I'm going to lose my mind," someone four. The mob grows hungry.

"Dude, Chipotle is so good for the world. Did you see that one extended animated commercial they had? Chipotle is the only food place in the world that actually cares about all of us," says the first guy.

"If Jesus Christ came back to earth, he'd go to Chipotle." Insane someone number two's eyes open fully. "I BET JESUS IS WORKING AT CHIPOTLE RIGHT NOW. WE HAVE TO GO FIND HIM!" The torches are lit and the pitchforks are pitched.

Your now literal gang storms down the street. Thousand upon thousands of people have joined your group. The beast awakens.

The beast hungers. It won't sleep until it's satiated. It has glowing red eyes and a poison-barbed tail. Its wings stretch forty feet wide, shoving a lamppost to the ground like a child kicking over a daisy.

Hisssssssss Chipotleeeeeeeee. The beast exhales a flame that scorches an Aldi grocery store. Poor Aldi, never had a chance.

The mob comes upon Chipotle.

"Natural!" The beast stands on its back legs, as tall as a tower.

"Organic!" The beast flicks its serpentine tongue out, tasting the air for vulnerability.

"Locally conscious!" A man fornicates into a coconut then blows his brains out with a sawed off shotgun.

"SUSTAINABLE!" The beast crashes through Chipotle's door, taking out the entire front wall.

"Welcome to Chipotle. What would you like?" asks the man behind the counter. He has long hair and a full beard. His brown eyes are welcoming. He wears a Chipotle visor and flowing white robes. A crown of thorns sits atop his visor. Golden light glows around him.

"I demand a burrito bowl!" screams the first man in line. He has jet black hair and a pointed goatee. His thick shoulders sit like boulders on his tall frame. He has the front legs of a horse. The horns of a ram come out of his red skull. He holds a trident and flames burst sporadically from his searing skin.

"You get more from the bowl than if you just get a burrito!" says Satan. He thrusts his trident into the air before turning and impaling the man in line behind him.

"What kind of meat would you like in your bowl, sir?" Jesus holds a lamb to his chest. Naked angels play harps behind him.

"Carnitas!" Satan shoots bats from his eyeballs. Carnitas is the meat of the devil.

"CARNITAS!" yells everyone else in unison. They melt into a black, smoking ooze. The ooze comes together and forms the back end of a horse. The horse half struggles forward, step by step, until it comes to Satan's ass. It bonds to Satan and he is complete.

"Black beans, all of the black beans! Guacamole!!!!" Satan takes a huge devil horse shit on the floor.

Jesus trembles as he packs beans upon beans into the carnitas bowl. He sends all of his love and forgiveness into each of the beans. These are the beans of Christ, given for food.

Jesus lops a heap of guacamole onto the beans. He closes his eyes. The world becomes silent. The purest, whitest light imaginable flows from his aura into the guacamole. This is the guac of Christ, given for food.

Satan rears and charges toward the counter. He leaps into the air, reaching his firey fist toward the bowl.

Jesus lifts the bowl above his head, summoning all of the strength of The Father into himself.

Satan makes contact with the burrito bowl, making contact with Jesus. The earth trembles. The ground and sky both tear open, revealing heaven and hell. Light and flames explode everywhere.

The Chipotle is gone. All that remains is pico de gallo, some soft taco shells, and the coconut into which the dead man planted his seed.

Lunch is over. The beast has gone back to sleep in its cavern, subdued for now.

Except I don't like Chipotle. I want real Mexican food, and Chipotle simply is not authentic. Thus, I abstain and eat alone. But I am certainly not alone in my disliking Chipotle.


After everyone on earth died because everyone went to Chipotle for lunch during the great Final Battle in 2015, I was left alone. Turns out I really am the only person in the whole world who doesn't like Chipotle.

It was strange at first, being the last and the smallest person in the world, but I got over it. Time heals all wounds, and luckily for me, the clock cured both my broken heart and my inferiority complex.

Language and definitions are only social agreements, after all. Therefore, being the last man on earth, I was no longer the smallest person on earth. I had become:

Mac Samson. The biggest man in the world.

Sure, everything was still inaccessibly large for me, but that was just because that was how the giants from yesteryear had made it. The history books were mine to write, and this is how I planned to rewrite them.

I crafted myself the most royal of thrones, similar to the Iron Throne in Game of Thrones. It was exactly the same as the Iron Throne, except instead of swords it was made out of keys, the swords of the tiny.

One day, as I, Mac Samson, king of and biggest man in the world, sat on my throne, watching reruns of Spongebob Squarepants while eating Cocoa Pebbles, the world became silent. My TV was still on and unmuted, but it made no noise. I crunched my sugary fortified cereal, but heard no crunch. My fish tank bubbled, but the purifier didn't hum. All was completely quiet.

"Mac," boomed a voice.

I looked around. I was pretty sure everyone died, but just to be safe, I put my pants on and even zipped the zipper. Kings do wear pants, after all.

"Mac!" came the voice again.

I looked at Balto, my beta fish. He shook his head side to side. "That wasn't me," said Balto.

"Mac! For Pete's sake, up here!" said the voice.

I looked up. My ceiling was gone and a fluff of clouds circled in the sky. They were as white as mountain snow. They circled faster and faster, so fast that I eventually couldn't look at them.

"God?" I said, shielding my eyes with my hands.

"Look up," said the voice.

I lowered my hands and looked up again. The clouds no longer spun. Instead, they had formed the unthinkable. It was the largest, most glorious Kraft Jet-Puffed Miniature Marshmallow I had ever seen.

It was a Kraft Jet-Puffed Jumbo Marshmallow.

"Listen to me, Mac," said the Marshmallow All Mighty.

"Yes, Lord. What is it?"

"Mac, you have stopped your tiny travels and settled here. Look at what you've become."

I looked down. Pretty much the same stuff I always wear. "This is how I always dress," I said.

"It is not your attire, dumby," said the Grand Mallow. "It is the place you've seated yourself."

"The Key-ron Throne?"

"Doy," said the Pontifus Mallowmus.

"But I'm the only person left on earth. I thought it only seemed fair that I be king," I said.

"Incorrect! You are not meant to be king. Not here, not now," said MOTUS.

"Wait, does that mean I get to be king some other time?" I asked.

"Uh... Don't try and take the story too far," said Marshmallyoncé. He cleared his throat. "Mac, I summon you to revive the world--"

"Whatever do you mean, oh great one?"

"Why did you just cut me off? I was explaining it quite clearly and you just cut me off."

"Sorry," I said. "Just haven't talked to anyone in a while."

Balto rolled his eyes. He's very sensitive.

"Anyway," said the Prime Minmallowster, "In order to bring the people of earth back, you must rise as high as you can and sprinkle the water of life down to the ground. This will bring order and life back. This is your task, go and get started."

The Kraft Jet-Puffed Jumbo Marshmallow slowly receded back into the clouds.

"Wait!" I said. "How will I get up into the sky? And what is the water of life?"

The Kraft Jet-Puffed Jumbo Marshmallow came back. "Dude, just..." He sighed. "Get a bunch of balloons."

"And the water of life?"

"Really? You think you're king material? Any water will do. I was going to send you on a quest to the fountain of eternal life, but obviously you are totally incapable of that task. As soon as I get back to my desk, I'll override that portion of the deal and any water should do."

"Yes, oh lord! Thank you for your gooey kindness!"

The Kraft Jet-Puffed Jumbo Marshmallow winked at me. He then put on some Ray-Bans and disappeared.


Twenty eight balloons.

That was how many balloons I gathered. Objectively, I'm super small, so even though I said all of that stuff about definitions and place and whatnot, twenty eight balloons was more than enough to lift my tiny self into the sky. I tied them to a chair, which was held to the ground by an anchor and a rope.

I sat down, nervous. "Wish me luck," I said to Balto.

"You're not a good listener and you always make everything about you," said Balto.

"You're right, I'll be fine. Thanks friend," I said.

With that, I cut the anchor rope with my key sword and lifted up. Up, up, up, down for a little bit, up again, down again, a little to the left, stop, not moving any direction, and up into the sky I went. I was the freest little man, and even though I wasn't a king, I sure felt like one.

The air was thin and breathing was hard. This must be it, I thought. The end of the world. The highest limit. I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a bottle of Dasani. Bottled water is a bunch of bullshit, so I definitely wasn't going to tell everyone when they got back that bottled water was what saved the world. I twisted off the cap and poured.

As the water fell toward the earth, it grew tremendously in volume. It formed thick, dark clouds. A gentle, holy rain washed the earth.

I had done it.

I popped a few balloons with my key and came back down. I landed in a pine tree, which sucks because I got all sticky from sap, but otherwise, everything was back to normal. Everyone was back alive.

Once again and as always, I was the smallest man in the world.


On a warm, breezy Saturday afternoon, I was hanging out with all of my friends in the park.

"Where do you guys want to get lunch?" asked Tim.

"Definitely not Chipotle!" I said, smiling.

"Fuck you, Mac," said Ben. Everyone was nodding in agreement.

The mob grabbed me, tied me to the flagpole rope by the pants, and raised me back up into the sky. They left me as they marched on to Chipotle.

God, I hate Chipotle.