Chewits: little cuboids of flavoured tire rubber
Chewits are amazing things.
Amazing in that they have an extremely odd hold over time, you finish a pack before you tuck into them.
I was walking down to my local shop to buy some frozen oven chips (the telepathic amongst you will know that I am currently doing a L.E.N.T. +1, this involves me giving up chips for about six weeks, then gorging myself on them for a week, and then onto L.E.N.T. +2, shall we see how many commas I can get inbetween these brackets? Along with these additional L.E.N.T.'s I've also given up chocolate, well not so much given up but forced to out of trying to prove my sister wrong by not eating that divine substance for a year, nine months to go, any way, back to the story) when I happened to notice a packet of fruit salad chewits magically appear on the shelf next to me. I looked at that little coin that my mother had pressed into my palm (not literally you understand, there's not much you can buy with subcutaneous currency).
Hmmmm.
Enough money for a bag of chips. Or enough money for several packets of chewits.
I stood there in the queue for the till doing double-triple-quadruple-and so on takes between the chips and the chewits. I've been out of school for about ten days now so my mind was working quite slowly so this was taking a bit of time. The shop staff were getting impatient but I threatened to call my lawyer and they promptly rolled over and kept returning an annoying stick I was trying to get rid of. The french Canadian nuns behind me though could not be threatened with such evil and were starting to get violent.
I made my decision. I put the chewit bar in my mouth and ripped open the plastic of the chip bag, tipped roughly half the contents on the floor and kicked the resulting pile under the nearest counter.
Tear one of the staff off my leg, pay for the chips and chewits and out the door.
By now the temporal effects of the chewits had kicked in with some bravado. In three seconds I had finished that little sweet. And it was the same for every one after it. I don't consider myself to be a very aggresive eater and so three seconds per chewit didn't seem right. I could only come up with one theory: as soon as a chewit enters my mouth a cascading chain of reactions makes the chewit fold up into itself and be pushed back in time to appear on the shelf I first spotted them on.
I'm sure you can agree with me, this is brilliant, I can eat all the chewits I want and my teeth won't rot and that 'tire' around my belly won't get more 'air' in it.
If only I could say the same about chips
Amazing in that they have an extremely odd hold over time, you finish a pack before you tuck into them.
I was walking down to my local shop to buy some frozen oven chips (the telepathic amongst you will know that I am currently doing a L.E.N.T. +1, this involves me giving up chips for about six weeks, then gorging myself on them for a week, and then onto L.E.N.T. +2, shall we see how many commas I can get inbetween these brackets? Along with these additional L.E.N.T.'s I've also given up chocolate, well not so much given up but forced to out of trying to prove my sister wrong by not eating that divine substance for a year, nine months to go, any way, back to the story) when I happened to notice a packet of fruit salad chewits magically appear on the shelf next to me. I looked at that little coin that my mother had pressed into my palm (not literally you understand, there's not much you can buy with subcutaneous currency).
Hmmmm.
Enough money for a bag of chips. Or enough money for several packets of chewits.
I stood there in the queue for the till doing double-triple-quadruple-and so on takes between the chips and the chewits. I've been out of school for about ten days now so my mind was working quite slowly so this was taking a bit of time. The shop staff were getting impatient but I threatened to call my lawyer and they promptly rolled over and kept returning an annoying stick I was trying to get rid of. The french Canadian nuns behind me though could not be threatened with such evil and were starting to get violent.
I made my decision. I put the chewit bar in my mouth and ripped open the plastic of the chip bag, tipped roughly half the contents on the floor and kicked the resulting pile under the nearest counter.
Tear one of the staff off my leg, pay for the chips and chewits and out the door.
By now the temporal effects of the chewits had kicked in with some bravado. In three seconds I had finished that little sweet. And it was the same for every one after it. I don't consider myself to be a very aggresive eater and so three seconds per chewit didn't seem right. I could only come up with one theory: as soon as a chewit enters my mouth a cascading chain of reactions makes the chewit fold up into itself and be pushed back in time to appear on the shelf I first spotted them on.
I'm sure you can agree with me, this is brilliant, I can eat all the chewits I want and my teeth won't rot and that 'tire' around my belly won't get more 'air' in it.
If only I could say the same about chips
3 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Exscuse that last mistake.
Anyhoo,your blog has come out of retirement,just to post about a packet of chewits!?
Mmm.
it's not so much come out of retirement, but grown out of puberty
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