Fuzzification (The Taco Bell Incident)

My name is Bob. I was built for war. I was not built... for Taco Bell. I was mindin' my business, midnight, kitchen tile, tiny rocket on my shell, tactical, in style. When the llama hit the kitchen with a bag from Taco Bell, smellin' like bad decisions and a portal straight from hell. She said, "It's just a snack," with that haunted sleepy stare, then the lab junk on the counter sparked up in the air. She froze mid, step, whispered "uh oh..." packet in the sky, El Diablo on the label yeah, I watched it fly. It burst like spicy shrapnel hit my face, my shell, my trail, and yeah I took a little taste... that was my fail. Then the whole world went sideways kitchen raisin’ hell and that’s the moment I became a fuzzy little snail. Fuzzification, the whole thing derailed, one wrong sauce packet and I'm a fuzzy little snail. Smoke in the distance? Don't ask, yeah El Diablo, bad decisions, and Baja Blast. Kitchen’s screamin’? just a snack hot sauce demon… Crunchwrap stack. I woke up in the smoke with the fear in my eyes, looked down at my shell like "why am I... plush?" Surprise. My insides started warmin' like a gremlin in a grill, I sneeze out tiny embers like "yo, this is not a skill." Then the llama took off sprintin', scorched tail down the hall, like a rocket made of panic with no safety protocol. Then a beaver wandered in, pure joy, no defense. "OH. Something cute and fluffy! This makes perfect sense!" He reached out to pet my fuzz... I tried to warn him fast, now the beaver's kinda smolderin' and I'm relivin' the past. I’m a burnin’ ring of fire yeah, it got dire the beaver tried to pet me… now he’s a ring of fire. I do not consent to this timeline. El Diablo's in my bloodstream my shell is overheating. I sneeze again… sparks everywhere. I try to crawl away I slide in hot sauce fate and the beaver runs behind me, like it’s playtime with a grenade.. The llama shouts "UH OH!" like a prophecy down the hall, and I'm a burnin' little ring of fire... and I didn't choose this at all. Fuzzification, the whole thing derailed, one wrong sauce packet and I'm a fuzzy little snail. Now I flinch at crunchy noises, I don't trust midnight light, and if I hear "Taco Bell"... I'm leavin' on sight. Smoke in the distance? Don't ask, yeah El Diablo, bad decisions, and Baja Blast. Yeah, I crawled out a survivor... but paid the cost, and somewhere in the kitchen... my innocence was lost. They asked me for comment. I crawled away. Slowly. A survivor. I cannot describe it. The llama will not comment. Never again will we ever speak of... The Taco Bell Incident.