And Taco Bell he received, albeit three weeks later, after his body had recovered enough to handle solid food. Booth downed eight and a half of the fast food giant’s Crunchy Tacos in a single meal, because apparently nothing gives you a hankering for cumin-laced meat slurry like a solitary sojourn in the void.
Smelling that sweet PR goodness—as pungent as twisted cinnamon or the siren scent of a Mountain Dew Baja Blast—Taco Bell itself has also picked up on the story, sending Booth a supply of company-branded swag. It’s also apparently working on a deal to get him free tacos for life, which is either sort of a dick move to pull on a guy who’s literally already died (Booth’s heart stopped for 15 minutes at one point during his ordeal), or a really bad value proposition, given his apparently unkillable nature, and bottomless, eternity-spanning love of a crispy tortilla crunch. (Meanwhile, Booth’s family is asking for non-taco support and donations to help him cover his medical bills, because apparently you can’t live on fun internet stories and limp, greasy lettuce alone.)
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