*Note: Tequila is not a part of but more of a catalyst for the recipe. It can be if you want it to be, if you're over the age of 21.
When we first drove by one with its plastic palm trees, turquoise exterior and shabby parking lot, we said aloud to each other, "There is no way they actually sell alcoholic drinks to go, there's no way." We attempted to explain the store as simply selling pre-made margaritas and frozen drinks that are packaged in a way as to not be able to be consumed in a car immediately after exiting the drive-through. Our imaginations, through no fault of our own, went wild, concluding they must not sell margaritas or frozen alcohol drinks at all but just acted like a front for some drug or blue rock candy smuggling ring, a la Los Pollos Hermanos. We began frequenting, but never actually entering, the haunt, driving by like two seedy undercover agents, scoping the area for a bald science man and his friend who enjoys describing female dogs aloud in any given sentence. After months, or days, I forget which, of this absolute, unnecessary, possibly fictitious nonsense, we decided it was high time to enter the hollowed grounds.
It was a hot day. The dust rose from the sizzling asphalt like a ghost out of a particularly rotten floorboard. We had been cleaning the last remnants of North Dakota from our vehicles when my ingenious husband jerry rigged my air conditioning to finally start blowing cool air as opposed to the choking desert sand fumes it had been for weeks. He needed a part to make the air compressor function properly and in the process, we passed by the drive-through margarita store. Mike pleaded that we should stop in and finally check it out.
So, with a giddy Santa-Really-Is-Real feeling, we hopped out of the Jeep, opting to explore this operation from the inside before diving head-long into the drive-through. The interior assaulted us with the scents of an empty hardwood humidor, cheap incense, and a faint undertone of a still-burning cigarette.
We were not the only patrons so we were free to peruse the menu which stated the over 50 kinds of frozen drink flavors and the alcohol options available: rum, vodka, tequila.
This still shocked us so we went forward in the process, still fully expecting to run into Walter White, Jesse Pinkman, or Saul Goodman. I went with the raspberry margarita, Mike with strawberry. Mediums were our size of choice so we were rather shocked when the sparsely-toothed attendant came back smoking a cigar and holding two cups the size of big gulps with flimsy tape across their tops aloft in her mammoth fists.
She winked and sheepishly admitted, "I got heavy-handed with the tequila...whatever, it's Saturday!"
Our thanks led us outside where we laughed, shook our heads and went about our errand. By the time my jeep rolled up our driveway, our slushies were still taped in place, frozen, and waiting. My first sip brought me back to college and our honeymoon in St. Maarten. Immediately, I thought, "BURRITOS!"
Given the move, I've been dolling the wild game out with a frugality bordering on hoarding. That being said, I pulled a sacred packet of pheasant out of our newly acquired second-hand deep freeze. Small pulls of the slushy tequila-laced beverage punctuated the creation of this dinner so as we feasted upon the feathery birds, the fragrant rice and man this is going to hurt tomorrow guacamole, we claimed it was one of the best pheasant dishes I had ever made. It could have been the work that went into it, the memories conjured after the first bite, the tequila talking, or they may just be that good: either way, you'll have to make them for yourself to found out..
[A bunch of] Pheasant, preferably already dead, de-pelleted, and breasted.
 Red Pepper, cut into parallelograms
 Onion, cut into circles
[A little] Olive Oil
 Well loved, well seasoned grill
[1 package] Fajita Seasoning or a good amount from HEB bulk-foods that is all-natural and absolutely delicious.
[1 package or 7] Handmade tortillas, preferably from food mecca HEB because they are made there and have no rival in my mind.
[1 container] Habanero guacamole, preferably again, for obvious reasons, from HEB.
 Sour cream. Or 2, they're your fajitas.
[1 batch] Cilantro lime rice.
[1 or 12] Hot sauces, preferably the crack rooster chili sauce, the one that no one ever remembers the name of.
Cilantro Lime Rice
[1 cup] Basmati rice
[1 1/2 cup] Water
[Paula Deen portion] Butter
[A handful or 2] Cilantro
Pheasant BURRITOS, a culinary jewel, in 9 parts.
Step II: Scroll over the image to reveal the pheasant fajita process.
Step III: Marvel at my attempt to make an alliteration joke just now.