The Nacho Coloring Book

Somehow humanity has produced coloring books for everything: mandalas for relaxation, cats for cuteness, swear words for passive-aggressive stress relief, even cryptids for the conspiracy-curious. But where’s the nacho coloring book? Don’t tell me dinosaurs get a hundred pages of line art, yet nachos — literal palettes of edible color — are ignored.

Picture it: an outline of a towering nacho platter, every chip begging to be shaded. Yellow for cheese? Sure. But what about guac? Do you keep it bright lime green or go with that darker shade that looks like it’s been sitting out since 1997? Salsa gets its own gradient — mild tomato red, medium chili orange, or the sinister dark red of “regret in a jar.” Even olives have range, from polite gray-green to “someone clearly dropped marbles in here.”

And don’t pretend it’s just for kids. Adults would snap this up faster than a limited-edition crayon box. Imagine “Therapeutic Nacho Patterns,” a whole spread of chips tangled together in line art, daring you to color outside the lines. Or a half-page dedicated entirely to jalapeños, because why not.

A nacho coloring book wouldn’t just calm you down. It would remind you that art is messy, toppings don’t stay in the lines, and nothing ruins a drawing like running out of cheese-colored markers. Which is exactly why it needs to exist. Somebody call Crayola.