Fritos Brand Flavor Twists, Honey BBQ Flavored: Every summer, my parents, Odin Van Shack Armentrout and Anastasia Delacourt Harbinger Van Shack Armentrout, spirit me away on a whirlwind journey to a new destination more mysterious than the one prior. Last year's point of arrival--Brownsville, Texas! It was here I discovered the pleasant charms of the local hicks and their whimsical dietary constraints. For example, they loved their "Fritos," which of course is Mexican for "fried toenail of the pig." My favorite variety? Fritos "Flavor Twists," Honey BBQ flavored. Though more than flavorful already, Fritos has made the devilishly clever decision to add even more spices, piling flavor upon flavor until my young taste buds literally collapsed in ecstatic ebullience! O, sweet crunchy Flavor Twists! Though my lungs may be permanently encased with a thick residue of onion powder and monosodium glutamate, tuberculosis never tasted so good! T.B. Émmmmmm, yesssss.
Hostess Powdered Donettes: I was first introduced to this delectably cakey confection during an unscheduled layover in Newark, New Jersey. Father and I were unceremoniously bumped from our flight and forced to stay overnight in the filthiest of fleabag motels--one that did not even have the decency to equip its substandard accommodations with a bidet. And, since every available trattoria was closed for the evening, father and I were relegated to dinner courtesy of the motel's snack machine. Though Father quickly vomited his Cheez-Nips into the sink, I discovered a savory miracle; a quintet of sugary pillows of delight carrying the nom de plume Hostess Powdered Donettes. O, gluttonous exuberance! Each tiny cake is so light, as if God Himself were a breast-fed infant, resting upon the holy shoulder of Mother Mary and burping up divine sugarcoated bubbles of milk. Mmm, yes. That evening I consumed 14 packages of these Donettes, and was later taken into police custody for climbing to the peak of the motel's sign, and loudly singing the bawdy 10th Century chantey, "Come Therefore Now, My Gentle Fere." My case was not improved by the fact that I was both nude and covered in white powder. Nevertheless, a temporary disappointment within an otherwise joyous culinary discovery.
The Bomb -- Beef, Cheese Sauce & Bean Burrito: I was first introduced to "The Bomb" by a stranger in a dilapidated van parked outside a 7-11 in Flagstaff, Arizona. "Hey kid," he called, using the vernacular common with those of his greasy-haired class. "Ya hungry? I got some treats for youse in my van." After my host failed miserably to entice me inside his vehicle with a wide assortment of confectionary temptations, my interest was finally piqued by the mammoth dimensions of the "The Bomb." A "beef, cheese sauce & bean burrito," this Latin inspired tortilla stuffed with filling was at least the size of my thigh. "Let us away, fair friend," I yelled, leaping in the back of his van. "We shall take to the road, letting only adventure and the wind be our guide!" I have since been told it is generally unwise to accept rides from sinister individuals--especially those who own large posters celebrating the career of Jeffrey Dahmer. However, how was I to resist the tantalizing bouquet, the shoe-leatherish texture, the succulent ketchupy sauce, and the palate-tickling bean curd of "The Bomb"? Unfortunately for our newfound friendship, my sinister chauffeur and I quickly parted ways after I experienced a particularly messy case of explosive diarrhea. I was ejected from the van in no uncertain terms, and left to wander the lonely night highway with only two things to keep me company; the delicious residue of the Bomb in my mouth, and wet fecal matter inside my trousers. AhhhÉ "On the road again." MmmmÉ yessssssssss.