Taco Night, or Should I Say the Night Where Izzy Desires to Punch Everyone Square in the Face Over A Small Thing that Annoyed Him but Probably Shouldn't Have

So my dad came into my room and told me that dinner was ready. So I came out to the kitchen, not knowing that I'm about to see what kind of twisted household I live in, and he asked me to grate some cheese. Grate some cheese? The balls of that guy! So not only are you a liar, but you are willing to break our mutual agreement. As the dad, he makes the meal, and if he keeps up his end of the deal, I wash the dishes. I don't remember agreeing to being the cheese-grating guy. In order for this deal to take place, you have to make 100% of the meal dad. What do you think this is a relay race? You fry a tortilla, frisbee it to my brother so he can set the refried beans foundation, he chucks it my way, so that I can put a layer of meat on, while at the same time, maintain a preferable ratio of meat to beans, and then send the masterpiece to other family members to can execute my precise formula to make a taco? No way José! See what I did there. Yeah just over there, it was so so clever. Next time it happens, I'm gonna get in the man's face and say, "If there is even the slightest task for me to do when I get into that kitchen (yeah grating cheese can be a real pain) I will burn this house to the ground." No I wont say that, but maybe I'll think about it. (I owe a lot of this rant to one of my favorite comedians: Bill Burr). Here's a picture of some tacos.