For some reason this childhood memory came to my mind this morning at work.
When my brothers and I were younger we had a couple of particular things we would do when eating French fries.
First, it was always a contest; actually everything was a contest, to see who had the biggest/longest fry. We would hold it up and set it aside as if were an ancient relic, or as if the federal government was going to come after it and put in a crate next to the Ark of the Covenant. Obviously curly fries were amazing because you could stretch one out over a foot sometimes. The sad thing is that the “long fry” could not be eaten until all potential contenders were eliminated, which sometimes resulted in eating a cold French fry.
Second we would take a drink of our beverage and say, ‘First I drink the gasoline.” Then we would hold up a fry and say, “Next we take the match.” Next we would swipe the tip of our fry in the pile of ketchup saying, “Then we light the match.” For the next we would swallow the “match”. And finally we would pretend that we blew up.
Now that I think about it, it’s kind of morbid and suicidal. We were strange kids.