A Eulogy For The Taco Bell Mexican Pizza

Brandy Ferner
Slackjaw
Published in
4 min readNov 9, 2020
Image Copyright: Taco Bell (Fair Use)

Hello, everyone. Thank you all for being here today. The delicious Mexican Pizza (née Pizzazz Pizza) was born to Taco Bell in 1988 and entered into eternal rest on November 5, 2020. As one of the most satisfying drunk/high cravings I have ever known, Mexican Pizza was taken from us far too soon, and the news hits like a spork to the heart. I am honored to be standing here in front of you today to celebrate Mexican Pizza’s life and legacy, and although there is no way I could possibly reiterate Mexican Pizza’s zest for life in a single speech, I’m going to do it anyway, even though no one asked me to.

Growing up, Mexican Pizza and I made many wonderful memories. One included my mother transposing its original name while confidently and yet incorrectly screaming “PIZZA PIZZAZZ!” into the drive-thru speaker over and over while I sat slumped in the station wagon, humiliated. How dare you not articulate our Taco Bell drive-thru order perfectly, Barbara.

Then there were the college years when Mexican Pizza was one of seven items I devoured in about three minutes while high AF and riding shotgun in Dirty Rob’s teal Geo Storm while Gabby and Carl — whom we affectionately called “Scabby” and “Scarl” — dry-humped in the backseat. As the years wore on, my intimate relationship with Mexican Pizza became a private one as adulthood, personal shame, and my quest for a mate tried to force me into dropping the fourth meal and choosing foods that didn’t accompany a bright green 32 oz. slushie named Mountain Dew Baja Blast.

If I could describe Mexican Pizza to you in only a few short words, it would be wet and crunchy. Within its cardboard box, Mexican Pizza perfected the art of blending the effects of condensation with its watery enchilada sauce to create a humid, yet still somehow crispy bite we will not soon forget.

Mexican Pizza lived life to the fullest, and wasn’t afraid to show the world who it really was, an Italian and Mexican Frankenstein creation pasted together with beans and beef cut with sawdust. Some of Mexican Pizza’s favorite activities were providing nourishment to drifters and hosting every suburban high school brawl where someone unexpectedly pulls a knife. Mexican Pizza was lucky enough to spend most of its vibrant life being enjoyed by the high, the recently high, and the soon to be high, while being created and served by the high, the recently high, and the soon to be high.

It’s true that in later years, Mexican Pizza hit some hard times, like when its black olives were burgled. And then its green onions, leaving it naked, afraid, and with zero justice. Mexican Pizza also witnessed its fair share of tragic family loss, watching the cruel assassination of its siblings, the Double Decker Taco, Enchirito, Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes, Gorditas, and Baja Sauce, to name a few.

No stranger to hardship, Mexican Pizza showed its bravery most when served at “Kentacohut,” an asinine yet fucking-awesome-if-you-are-nine-Coors-Lights-deep conglomeration of a Kentucky Fried Chicken, Taco Bell, and Pizza Hut under one confused roof. It was there that Mexican Pizza found itself in direct competition with the personal pan pizza. But green onions or not, Mexican Pizza held its unripe, discolored, diced tomatoes high and secured its spot as a favorite, breaking spork tines with its crusty heft.

In closing, I want to thank you all once again for being here today with myself and my family as we say goodbye to Pizza Pizzazz. I also want to say a special thank you to Doritos Locos tacos for sounding beyond disgusting, but actually tasting like Heaven and coming in a neat little cardboard sleeve. Which is ironic because Taco Bell has assured us that the silver lining in the death of Mexican Pizza and its cumbersome box is the seven million pounds of saved paperboard material per year, but will they be telling us a similar story when they inevitably execute the Doritos Locos Taco, giving most people no reason to step foot in a Taco Bell ever again? What next, T-Bell, a DUI checkpoint in the parking lot?

Finally, I want to say goodbye to you, Mexican Pizza. You were such a special treat to so many, and your legacy will live on in the beautiful memories you leave for all of us. It’s safe to assume that that Dirty Rob, Scabby and Scarl are all welcoming you with open, but partially-mangled arms from some Spring Break speedboat accident as you transition to the other side. I will always love and remember you, MP.

Thank you. And please pull forward.

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Brandy Ferner
Slackjaw
Writer for

Brandy Ferner is the author of “Adult Conversation: A Novel,” and host of the Adult Conversation Podcast. Her love language is sleep.