Carlos was a young man who lived alone in a place called Cobbletown, a small part of the Great kingdom. Growing up he had a lot to live up to after all his ancestors were the first to create the taco.   Carlos always aspired to be like his legendary ancestors, and often cooked unorthodox dishes to try and make a name for him-self in the food industry. One day a royal herald rode into town announcing a competition for aspiring cooks to win a chance to become the Royal Chef for the King.
When Carlos heard the news, he knew this was his chance to prove himself. After registering for the competition he worked day and night to compose his masterpiece. Carlos sifted, whisked, folded, and chopped his way through the next week. Finally, the competition was here.  The loss of sleep was worth it, Carlos knew that his creation was by far the best in all of the Great Kingdom.
The aspiring Chefs were down to their last couple minutes.
“Five minutes remaining” roared the royal Herald.
Those last five minutes had to count, so Carlos was plating and garnishing to save his life. He placed his square plate on the table in front of the judging table. To much surprise the judge was revealed to be the king himself. Now the competition was spicing up.
As the glutinous King walked out, with crumbs remaining on his crimson silk robes, the Chefs step back to watch their creations be engulfed one by one. 
“Too crunchy! Too soggy! “The king complained, but kept on eating.
When it came down to Carlos’ taco he closed his eyes. First he heard the crunch of the bite. Next there was a long silence. Finally, gasps from the crowd. With a glimmer of hope Carlos had imagined they were all gasping because the king had finally found the winner and that they were all just surprised. Carlos opened his eyes to see the King was the darkest shade of red. Now from his head to his toes he was completely crimson.
“POISON” Whaled the King and the Herald, almost in sync.
Before anyone could even blink guards came flooding in to apprehend a confused Carlos. Shackles were slapped on to Carlos’ wrists and ankles, now he was hovering on his back as four men carried him down two flights of stairs and chucked him in a small damp cell with nothing but the taco that had gotten him there.
“What did I do? What have I done? Cooking is not a crime! No crime has been committed! Let me be free!” Carlos cried and pleaded but the guards had already disappeared.
Even though the guards had gone away, Carlos was hoping someone else might be listening.
“Please ancestors, if you’re listening help me out of this mess. I tried to spread our good name but I have only belittled it. How can I fix this? I’ll do anything! Was my taco that bad? What did I do wrong? “
Just then a cold chill ran through the cell and the wind blew so hard that Carlos could barely stay on his feet.
“We hear your cries Carlos, we are your ancestors. We will help you, we will fix this. There is no way for you to escape this cell as a man, you must take another form. It will not only help you escape but it will also give you the chance to fix your flavors. The only way to redeem your-self is by getting the king to eat your taco before it spoils. Remember, it’s not about what was in the taco, it’s about what isn’t in the taco. You must find the answer on your own.”  The blowing wind whispered to Carlos.
“But I am a Chef. I can’t change form. I don’t understand. Please come back there has to be something else” Carlos replied, but there was no answer.
But it was too late, Carlos looked down at his bean dip legs and his queso covered arms and squealed at the sight of his body.
“I’m a…I’m a taco!”
Still unsure of his new form he took a few steps to see what was really going on, but it was no trick Carlos was now a taco. He knew this was insane he also knew there was no time to waste. Carlos slipped through the cell bars, hobbled up the two flights of stairs and could finally see the sun again. Taco Carlos rushed to his kitchen still not understanding what he needed to perfect his taco. He skimmed and flipped through dozens of cook books. They were all impossible to read because of all the shredded cheese falling out of a gaping hole where the king’s teeth marks were clearly visible.
Then it hit him. Only cheese was falling out, nothing else, no sauce or anything. Where was the sour cream? He finally realized why the king was so red and why he thought he was poisoned. The taco had no sour cream to cut the spiciness of the chili peppers. It was too spicy to handle! Carlos knew of only one place to go to get sour cream at a time like this. Carlos went through the cellar doors in his kitchen down to the only thing his ancestors left for him, besides their legacy, their taco workshop.
Carlos willed himself to run down the stairs; finally making it to the bottom he catapulted himself off of a giant tortilla chip into a large nearby fountain of sour cream. Bathing in the sour cream Carlos could now face the judgment of the King again.
As the sun retired for the day the king prepared for the next round of the competition. He still hadn’t found the chef he was looking for so many more tried their luck at the competition. Carlos was able to make it back just in time for dinner. Carlos could feel his avocado lungs growing brown if he didn’t get eaten soon he was sure to spoil. As the king began his meals Carlos snuck onto a plate and set up his display. A royal servant picked up the plate Carlos was laying on and presented it to the king. With one foul chomp the king was taken from his body and place in a world of ecstasy. The great king’s taste buds had been defeated.
“This is the most amazing taco I’ve ever experienced.” The king spoke under his breath. “Who is responsible for this master piece?”
Just as he spoke the king noticed the bite he had taken earlier that day. He could recognize those teeth marks anywhere.
“The prisoner! Release the man who was imprisoned earlier this day!” the king shouted with glee.
Carlos was met down in his cell by an exuberant king with his taco in hand.
“How about you give up these sad bars and brick for a life of luxury and fame in the palace as one of my renowned royal chefs?” The king offered with a grin that reached the ends of his face.
With his family’s name back to its original glory he gladly accepted the offer and began his career as a great chef.