‘The Ventrilocrisp had high hopes for the footballs, expecting a specimen, like the beautiful game itself, with mass appeal.’
When the Ventrilocrisp was 6, its teacher asked its worst quality. It replied sinisterly: my temper. There remains much in the world about which to protest, from vast inequality to lengthy personal resentments (its enemy neighbour who must sorely pay; downloading the work authenticator app onto its phone). Thankfully, the Ventrilocrisp’s hard, residual anger has softened during furlough. In its step there is a new lightness. A neighbour said it looked happy. Yet some weeks ago, it felt the old red rage return, swift and all-consuming.
What happened was this: a man in the park interrupted the Ventrilocrisp’s football session offering bad unsolicited advice. This he delivered as if to a child, not listening to a word the Ventrilocrisp and its companion said. The man’s own ball control was poor and his suggestions were stupid (play ‘one bounce rush’). The Ventrilocrisp and Leah Kahn were twice the athletes this man would ever be. Afterwards, the Ventrilocrisp cursed itself for giving him its time. For time, after all, is money. Why, the Ventrilocrisp grumbled bitterly, did this man feel he had the right and qualification to critique their well-considered practice?
After this lengthy prelude, onto the crisp. It had high hopes for the footballs, expecting a specimen, like the beautiful game itself, with mass appeal. Cheetos know their cheese flavour, it mused. So let’s sit back and enjoy the ride.
This was the beginning of a series of disappointments. Firstly, the footballs are drier and smaller than anticipated: roughly the diameter of a one pence piece. Their hexagonal markings carry the ominous suggestion of violence, seeping crimson like blood through to the puff’s orange skin. The promised cheese flavour was scarcely to be found, hijacked by a strong taste of bacon. Alarm bells began to ring: the taste was suspiciously meaty for a cheese puff. It turned over the packet. There it was: contains beef. Vegetarian Ventrilocrisp, cruelly poisoned! It spat the crisp out in disgust.
The reformed Ventrilocrisp would not make the same mistake twice. It threw the crisps in the bin (read: gave them away). Time is money. And the simplest form of protest here is to deny these treacherous crisps its precious time.
NB. This post was written fro GDFC Mag Issue II, which can be read online here: https://www.goaldiggersfootballclub.com/gdfc-mag
- repurchase? ❎
- recommend to a friend? ❎
- eat this crisp in public? ❎
- consider the price to be right? ☑️
- need to wash hands after consumption? ❎