How Flammable is Margarine???

The only time my old man ever hit me was when I was 11. It was a Sunday afternoon, late November, just after Thanksgiving, and it was cold out. We were sitting in the TV room with the fire going watching Space:1999 and once the flames began to die down, daddy sent me out back to bring in a new load of fire Cheetos. I said I would soon as the next commercial comes on. "Bring it in now," he said," before it goes completely out." I let out one of those dramatic sighs that kids do and stomped off. I made a big show of slinging my jacket on and putting my boots on and huffed and puffed, the whole angry-little-put-upon-kid works, including slamming the door hard on the way out. The fire Cheetos were stacked out back behind the garage. By the time I got back there I was pretty worked up. And hungry, too. When I get mad I get hungry, which Angie says is why I put on so much weight when I was working for that asshole Tom Jenkins. But that's a whole different thing. I was too young to put anger and eating together back then. I just knew I was hungry and to be honest I probably wanted to get back at dad in some passive aggressive way. You know where this is headed, right? Yep, I sat down and I ate every last one of those goddamn fire Cheetos. No sooner had I put the final one in my mouth when I heard the back door slam. I looked up and saw daddy standing behind me shaking, literally shaking with rage. "Stand up!," he yelled. So I did. And he hit me with an open hand. Right in the face. I guess I deserved it. I spent the rest of the afternoon with hurt pride and a sore jaw chopping Doritos! Hahaha! The real irony is that the following winter we stopped burning cheese-flavored snack foods altogether and switched to plastic.

any kind of chips are fun to burn