And so, that dreary and damp day, the young man, who was old enough to understand the concept of thrift but young enough to abandon any care for it, longed for excitement. His pantry and cupboards were bare, like the shelves and rooms in his heart; empty, with no occupants except the dust and cobwebs reminding him of their barrenness. So, he thought he’d take a jaunt and find something to fill the vacancies in his person and cupboards. He decidedly stopped at his local grocer. A grocer like no other. No item was out nor shelf barren. No request too large to be made. No desire to be left unfulfilled. The man, as he was today, abandoning his boyishness as if his maturity blew with the wind, decided upon an item that would excite his senses as if he smelled beautiful rose water and tasted the freshest of oranges. He decided upon Great Value BBQ kettle cooked potato chips. These chips were unlike any other in nature. Their character, unbeknownst to the man, would be described as having a texture that is crunchy but lacking, a flavor bold, but brief, a shape, if one could describe it would be called, irregular. However their price was agreeable with the man’s temperament of the day matching that of a father who had to ensure the water was running, lights were on, and the children clothed. So the man purchased the chip that was lacking in all aspects but thrift and strolled back home to his barren cupboards and deserted heart to fill them once again with a sensation that one could only describe as “new”. So the man sat upon his red sofa. It wasn’t a red that was dark and brooding or a red that was unaware of its obnoxious vibrancy, but a red in betwixt the two, it called to and comforted him, just as the red of the Great Value Brand BBQ kettle cooked potato chip had. So he sat upon that red couch and opened the bag. His excitement, appearing just as water did before it boiled, overcame him and he tried the curiously cheap potato chip and found it to be just that, cheap. He was so disgusted at the brevity of the flavor and the shallow crack of the so called snack, that he immediately vomited. However, the vomiting didn’t stop, and red chips poured out of him again and again after only eating one. Unable to catch his breath the man died right there on his red couch from his red chip, and to this day, some say they can hear the retching of the man, and crushing sound of potato chips underneath the man’s almost weightless figure from the barren heart that lie within.