What are you? Chips? Candy? Dessert? I’m having a hard time understanding what you’re made of. How did this even happen? And also, why?
Jenny, please don’t take this personally, but your Caramel Dittos just simply cannot possibly have anything “natural” about them, flavored or otherwise. The very promise gives me lastima because it means somebody out there must believe you. Just like saying you’re old fashioned when you look like space food, like you belong on Mars.
And then there’s your packaging, with it’s 1970s-kitchen-color-scheme making me want to leap from a tall building. I bet the baby dittos would actually provide for great padding when I kurplunk. Jen, it’s like you’re not even trying.
In an unnecessarily long line at Rite Aid (only one register open, really?!) I watched the guy up front pay with change. Nickels, dimes, quarters. My anxiety was having an anxiety attack, that’s how much I needed to get outta there. But then I saw you living in a 99 cent bin and it felt like a splash of cold water on my face. Like someone shouting, “Wake up! There’s more going on out there than you rushing home for Mad Men! People are eating dittos!”
Is this what it has come to? Forget a lack in nutrition, this isn’t even real food. Is this where our future is headed, our hands in a ditto-jar? And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Mr. Coins up at the register turned to grab a bag of you. Then he reached back into his pocket to count out 99 pennies.