As is the case with many addictions, I started young.
My love for the Orange Dust began in the early 1980s. I was just a bag runner back then. It was my job to peer into the see-through plastic window of each bag in order to find the one with the cheesiest chips.
I learned this trade from Big Brother who never settled for anything less than the bag with the most fluorescent Orange Dust. If the shit I brought back wasn't good enough, he'd send me right back into the aisles. There was no leaving Krogers until the job was done -- and done right.
That's how I got started in the business. When you're young, you think you can keep it all the shit under control, that you can stop any time. I had the sick metabolism of a hyperactive child and the iron stomach of a kid who could live off of junk food. Doritos were no problem for me. I could spend a day with a family-size bag without missing a beat. Back then, we had many long walks and happy times together.
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In The Beginning, It Was All Good
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As I got older, though, things got complicated. The relationship became less on my terms and more on Doritos' terms. I felt like I was losing my identity, like everything in my life was getting covered in a fine layer of Orange Dust.
The more I used, the more powerless I was against The Supreme Saltiness. Doritos began demanding more from me, even when it was clearly not good for me. Soon, I found myself lost in a cloud of Orange Dust with no way out.
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Caught in a Vortex of Dorito Desire
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It always seemed so harmless to open up a bag, but I was never satisfied with just snacking on a handful of chips. No matter what I did, I just couldn't stop. The first chips were always pure salty joy, a celebration of fake nacho cheese flavor and awesome crunchiness.
It was a deadly combination -- and I couldn't get enough of it.
Like any drug, Doritos had a dark side that would suddenly turn on me with no thought to consequences. I had to bear those alone. Big Brother began to notice that I was an addict and tried to pull me out of the business, but it was too late. I would promise him that I could handle a few chips, but halfway through the bag, I would turn into a raging ORANGE-FINGERED-MOTHER-FUCKING-MONSTER.
That's right; Doritos can RIP YOUR FAMILY APART.
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Doritos Had A Nasty Side
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For those who find this story a little too close to home, I have one piece of advice. PUT THE BAG DOWN. Wash your fingers and get clean. The side effects will only grow worse with time. In the long run, the Doritos that you once loved will only leave you with nightmares, bellyaches, and shattered memories.
Do you really want to wake up every morning full of abdominal pain and regret?
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For me, if my story can reach even one kid....
Who I am kidding?
I FUCKING LOVE DORITOS!
WOO HOOOO!
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