nothing for a moment. I'm shocked, speechless. I bought a tiny plastic container of Whoppers that sat on the candy rack beside the overpriced Kit Kats, because it had a 55 cent instant coupon on it. Three ounces, or the rough equivalent of a Milky Way.
It was not the price of a Milky Way, though. It was two dollars.
I can live with my mistakes, so I bit the bullet and opened the small plastic treasure, eagerly salivating as I anticipated the sensuous taste of malt. I looked. I blinked. I looked again.
These aren't Whoppers, they are the retired grandmothers of Whoppers. They were so old, dried, and wrinkled that I knew they were not at home here. They belonged in Shady Hills Diastoid Village. How am I supposed to eat someone's grandmother, I ask you? I'd feel like Ashton Kucher.
I propose that one of my first acts as president will be the creation of a new office, the Department of Diastoid Security and Chocolate Purity. The next issue it takes on may be the presence of carob in the "chocolate" mix in these abominaballs.
As the bumper sticker says, if you aren't outraged, you aren't paying attention.
2 comments:
Okay, the Ashton Kutcher comment made me laugh.
So are you still THAT shocked & speechless?
Who'da thunk that Whoppers would be what silenced Alex Ludd? Toughen up, hon, or it's going to be a rough campaign.
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