Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to
continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a
species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.
Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply
pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and
splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one
immediately. The winner gets to go another round.
I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are
tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I
have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive
long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern
candy and snack-food world.
Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is
misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost
invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare
occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the
species continues to adapt to its environment.
When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the
strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat
this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it
to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ
17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use
this M&M for breeding purposes."
This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon
for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this
"grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand
tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the
True Champion.
There can be only one.
