A Letter to the Pringle Man

I'm getting lazy with the addresses. I'll look em up tomorrow. Thankfully, I don't have any football to watch.

Gene Wolfe
Chicago

Dear Mr. Wolfe,

I don't have time for pleasantries right now, so we'll save the introductions for a later date. Through various channels two facts have been brought to my attention. First, that you, sir, played an integral role in the creation and manufacturing process responsible for the American snack product known as Pringles. Second, that Pringles are originally cooked in a large sheet, possibly as wide as three feet. I covet these sheets, Mr. Wolfe, and I want you to help me obtain some.

No, you cannot ask me why! Why did Phaethon covet his father's golden chariot? Why did Ahab chase the white whale? Why did Indiana Jones seek the Holy Grail? Trick question! Nazis shot his father. No, I must have this giant, square Pringle at any cost. Except for any amount of money, because I'm not going to lie, I don't have any.

Still, I know you'll help me out. Think of what we could do with a couple of those giant Pringles! Obviously, the first thing we'll do is eat one. I mean, it will border on animal lust. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about it afterwards. I would just start taking huge chunks out of that thing left and right. When I was a kid I always wanted to fill a swimming pool with jello, but later realized I stood a very real chance of being sucked in and drowning. This, though, is a lot safer.

After we gorge ourselves on gargantuan potato sheet, I'd like to make an A-sign that says "Will work for food" and wear it in downtown Columbus. Then whenever someone stopped and offered me work, I would interrupt them to laugh and say, "Oh, how silly of me! I don't need to work for food!" Then I, of course, will break off a piece of my sign and cheerfully eat it. These people will then respect me.

There are many other things I would like to do with a giant Pringle, but those two stand out and I don't want to waste anymore time. I'll finish by estimating that we'll need at least two dozen sheets, three if your chip lust rivals my own. This could be the beginning of a very fruitful (or should I say vegetable?) relationship, Mr. Wolfe! Let us begin the journey that ends only with mens' dreams!

Crunchily,

The Correspondent