The Other Long Lost Story

I admit it, I have a very odd relationship with food. Can't help it, I suppose. Maybe the Twinkies made me do it!

THE TWINKIE MADE ME DO IT
I have always loved Twinkies. There’s something about that mysterious fluffy cream filling that I find irresistible. As a kid I’d ride my bike to the neighborhood 7-11 and buy three packages of Twinkies for a buck if they were on sale or a package for sixty cents when they weren’t on sale. I want to set one thing straight right from the beginning: I’m not addicted to Twinkies; they’re addicted to me. Wherever I go, they follow me. I can go for months without eating a single Twinkie from the box hidden in the cupboard above the refrigerator.
Up until I was about twenty I never had any trouble with food, but then something weird started to happen. Every time I ate a Twinkie, I’d see something in the cream filling; not like a prize in a box of Cracker Jacks or someone’s toenail; it wasn’t like that at all. I’d see pictures of the future. Every time I bit into a Twinkie I felt like I was psychic.
It all started one day when I was watching the Showcase Showdown on The Price is Right one morning. I was eating a twin-pack of Twinkies while each showcase was revealed; the first was a very nice living room ensemble and a baby grand piano. Just before the contestant was about to place her bid, I casually looked at the Twinkie filling. You can’t imagine how stunned I was to see $19,400 written in the Twinkie filling. I felt inclined to keep that number in mind (the contestant bid an even $17,000). The other showcase was a cruise to Alaska and a Jeep Cherokee. Once again I looked into the Twinkie filling and there was the magic number, this time it was $48,600 (the contestant bid $35,000).
After the commercial break, Bob Barker announced that the actual prices of the showcases were $19,400 and $48,600, respectively. Of course, no one believed me when I told them I had guessed the exact price of each showcase.
I spent the next few nights eating Twinkies in front of the TV watching every race or sport on ESPN, every reality show and game show I could find. No matter what I watched, be it Jeopardy! Or a collegiate polo game, I had all the answers and picked the winner with absolute accuracy and confidence, as long as I was eating a Twinkie.
Once I was absolutely sure of myself and the psychic powers of the Twinkies, I went with a couple friends to Vegas. I figured that since I had this special gift of reading what the Twinkies were saying, that I should take advantage of it. When everyone else was eating prime rib before hitting the tables, I ate my Twinkies and took careful notes, my friends looked on incredulously. Let them laugh at me I thought to myself but told them, "wait and see."
To make a long story short, we came home with an extra $5000 each. Black Jack and Roulette were very kind to us. After a few more months of gambling and winning, I quit my job as an x-ray technician and began trading stocks over the Internet. As long as I ate Twinkies, everything went extremely well. I was living the high life and had everything I ever dreamed of having: a great house, a red Mercedes, a housekeeper and chef, a summer villa on the Mediterranean, and of course, a massive supply of Twinkies.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually. One day I woke up and I had no desire to eat my recommended daily allowance of Twinkies, i.e. twelve Twinkies. I decided that I could enjoy a day without Twinkies.
I spent the day basking next to my well-heated pool, eating seafood and sipping wine. That night I invited the very sexy girl next door over to spend the night. We were fuck buddies, if we were bored or horny or whatever we’d call each other up and get it on. For some reason, I had the sudden inclination to ask Cameron if we could make mad passionate love on a bed of Twinkies with several cans of whip cream at hand. Cameron acted as if I had completely lost my mind proposing something so—kinky. Cameron never returned my calls and pretended not to know me whenever we met after that.
The desire to make love on a bed of Twinkies with someone I really knew and liked became an obsession. Sure it would have been easy to convince a drunk one-nighter to do it, but to get someone you actually know makes creating the ideal Twinkie slumber party situation a little sticky.
I began to notice that even though I resumed eating my RDA of Twinkies the next day, that my skills with predicting the stock market had somewhat deteriorated. Was it possible that the Twinkies had felt snubbed by my one-day Twinkie fast and that they were angry with me? Of course, I figured that it had to be possible since they were able to predict the stock market, Vegas casino tables, and games. Up until that point, I had never considered that I had an actual relationship with Twinkies. It was time to have a heart-to-heart talk with the Twinkies and see where we stood.
"I’m sorry," I told a recently opened box of Twinkies, "I know I shouldn’t have taken a day off but—" Twinkie the Kid glared at me from the front of the box, "but, hey, even God took a day off." I tried to lighten up the frigid atmosphere created by the angry Twinkie aura.
"That’s no excuse! He took one lousy day off since the world began eons ago! We’ve been doing this for less than two years and now you want a day off!"
Unlike the average person, I wasn’t surprised when Twinkie the Kid started talking to me. I was feeling remorse for offending him. "What can I do to make it up to you?" I asked the glaring yellow figure in cowboy attire.
"Will you do anything?"
"Yes, of course. Just name it."
"Prove it by making mad, passionate love on a bed of Twinkies."
I immediately started going through my friends and acquaintances and after calling for three hours, finally found a friend who would satisfy my eccentric whim for a bribe of a mere thousand dollars. All I can say is that I hope I never have to do that again. Cream filling is difficult to clean out of your ears. I walked around half-deaf for the next three days because of the cream filling.
"Well done!" Twinkie the Kid exclaimed the next day.
Things went along more smoothly after that night. Twinkie the Kid and I would go cruising in the Mercedes or sit at a bar and watch the night-life. We went on a three-month cruise through Greece and Turkey. We settled for a while on Capri.
One evening while we were watching the sun go down, Twinkie came out wearing a Roman toga and a laurel wreath. "I want to have an orgy that would make the Emperor Caligula jealous." He announced, showing off the fine craftsmanship of his toga.
I didn’t know much about Roman emperors, but any emperor that had a Playboy movie made about him couldn’t have been much of a ruler.
"The only difference will be that we will carpet the floor with Twinkies."
What I was envisioning when Twinkie the Kid said those words wasn’t very attractive. I remembered how messy the bed of Twinkies had been, now I was forced to envision an entire floor of squished and destroyed Twinkies; besides, how long would it take me to clean the cream filling out of my ears after a Twinkie orgy? I might even need surgery to clean out my ears. "No, Twinkie, I won’t do it.
"Yes you will," he glowered, his voice raising.
"I refuse to have an orgy on a floor covered with Twinkies!"
He threw off the laurel crown and toga, storming out of the room he screamed, "You’ll be sorry! You’ll wish you had never eaten a Twinkie!"
I ran out after Twinkie the Kid, but he was nowhere to be found. I asked the few people in the hall if they had seen a naked Twinkie running around. They all looked at me as if it were an unusual question and shook their heads.
I decided that I needed a drink so I went to the hotel bar. Standing on a table near the piano singing was Twinkie the Kid, still completely naked. "No Twinkie likes me. Every Twinkie hates me, guess I’ll eat them all! Big golden creamy ones, mashed in the box ones—" he sang at the top of his lungs before I interrupted his song.
"What are you doing?" I asked him, ignoring the people who stared at us from their seats, enjoying their drinks and watching our drama.
"Are you going to have the Twinkie orgy with me?" he asked hopefully, threateningly.
"For the last time, no. I will not have a Twinkie orgy with you or anyone else!"
Twinkie was livid. "I told you I’d make you sorry!" he yelled, "Here goes!" he pulled out a large cellophane Twinkie bag from behind his back and put it over his head.
"Don’t do it, Twink!" I yelled. He grinned maliciously. He started huffing and puffing and blowing up the bag his head was in. Somehow, he reminded me of a jaundiced astronaut. Before I could figure out what he was doing, Twinkie the Kid had already clapped his hands as hard as he could against the cellophane bag. POP! No one was enjoying their drinks at this point. Cream and sponge cake exploded everywhere. The couple sitting at the nearest table had to be rushed to the nearest hospital because they nearly suffocated from the amount of cream filling that had exploded on to them.
Strangely enough, nobody asked me any questions about the Twinkie disaster. I thought it best to leave Capri as soon as possible. I packed in a hurry and was on the next plane off the island four hours after the horrible catastrophe.
No inspector has ever called for me since that time. I am not considered a fugitive in any foreign country. No one has even taken any interest in the fact that I murdered Twinkie the Kid; not even the Hostess Company. I spend my days by my pool eating and drinking Twinkies, and yes, sleeping on a bed of Twinkies every night as penance for my crime. Someday I hope that Twinkie the Kid, wherever he is, will forgive me. I’ll never turn down the opportunity of having a Twinkie orgy again.