This is one woman’s story of her deep and unwavering love for Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.
Ah the cheesiness, the crispy, crackling crunchiness, the freakish, unnatural, nuclear glow of them… I love the punch-in-your-face heat. FHC are turbo-charged atomic nuggets that set your whole mouth aflame. When I eat them the top of my nose beads with sweat, but I can't stop: I crave the endorphin rush. Tears spring to my eyes, my scalp prickles with perspiration and my tongue all but blisters in the aftermath, and yet… I dream of them. I’ve been known to eat them for breakfast. I see the gaudy, orange package in the 7/11 and I have a Manchurian Candidate moment. Before I realize what has happened I’ve torn open the bag and devoured all 7.5 ounces.
Only this man understands a burning love like this.