I was at a grocery store yesterday. The Hostess stuff was pretty much all gone, and right next to the nearly-bare shelves a dude from Little Debbie’s was PACKING their shelves with product. I mean that he was there for at least 20 minutes emptying boxes onto the shelves.
Now, there was a brief period in my checkered past in which I was a Hostess consumer, because Hostess fruit pies and warm beer put back the precious nutrients your body loses when playing 4 hours of polkas. But it’s been decades since I have cared about these products.
[Brief shout out to various Red Rooster food stores in the Edmonton area in the 80’s goes here]
Even so, I still had the momentary urge take Little Debbie’s guy down with my signature finishing move* and then dump out of one the bags of Donettes over him, for my fallen friends.
I did not do this. I bought some nice cheese.
*You ask the person to help you read some small type, and then headbutt them just below the ear, making it look like an accident. Then you check their wallet for ID, palming their cash, call an ambulance and apologize and show great concern when they wake up . It’s called “The Plausible Deniability”