Hunger led me on a short leash to the kitchen a few days ago. I opened the cabinets and what did I see?
A box of saltines!
Opening the cardboard sarcophagus and retrieving one of the four plastic spires-I split it open, ignoring the first few that are busted. I get to chewing on a pristine square set way in the back.
…And then…I spit that shit out.
What the hell? Where’s the salt? They’re called “saltines” for a reason…oh wait. I’m sorry. They weren’t saltines. They were toppers! The most half-ass snack I came across in a longtime. A very longtime.
Never assume a cracker is just a cracker. Sometimes it’s far less.
I mean…whose idea was this? Did they actually taste these damn things before giving two thumbs up and unleashing this forsaken snack upon humanity? I doubt it. Because if they did, well, they would have promptly salted them the fuck up.
Allow me describe what it’s like getting a mouth full of one of these baked geometrical atrocities:
Imagine accumulating a dryness in your mouth that only occurs when foolishly journeying across a desert with nothing, but a piss soaked t-shirt wrapped around your forehead.
Yup. That’s whats it’s like. Trust me.
Or don’t and take the journey yourself.