Much Ado About Nachos: A Tragedy in Three Layers

Friends, nacho lovers, countrymen—lend me your chips. For there is no table more rife with betrayal, passion, and theatrical flair than the one where a platter of nachos lies in wait.

At first, all is well. The nacho platter enters, piled high, a golden tower of melted cheese, spicy jalapeños, and toppings aplenty. Smiles are exchanged. Dips are shared. Politeness reigns. Yet, beware, for like any Shakespearean farce, darkness looms.

Act I: The Opening Scene. Everyone plays nice. You delicately pick from the outer rim, careful not to disrupt the structure. Chivalry lives—briefly.

Act II: The Betrayal. One bold soul reaches for the loaded center chip. Chaos erupts. Someone’s elbow “accidentally” knocks over the salsa. Alliances crumble faster than chips beneath the weight of too many toppings.

Act III: The Final Act. One perfect chip remains—a chip so heavily loaded, so structurally sound, it might as well be Excalibur itself. Will it be shared? Divided evenly? Of course not. The battle rages. Friendships tested. Manners abandoned. It ends, as all great tragedies do, in crumbs and regret.

Much ado about nachos, indeed.

Image created using DALL-E.