Doritos: King of Demons

On day fourteen of the low-carb Atkins diet I’ve been on, the following odd-but-true story happened.

I had just returned from a twelve-hour workday and was exhausted.  But it was my turn to make dinner for the family, so bed would have to wait.  I didn’t want to spend too much time in the kitchen so I made a simple choice:  soup, sandwiches, and Doritos for them, and ribs and veggies for me.

I reached in the cabinet still stuffed with high octane demon carbs, (pasta, Velveeta and shells, rice, brownie mix, pop-tarts), which are all a low-carb dieters worst nightmare, and I pulled out a bag of Doritos for my kids.  Now, I don’t know if I was hallucinating,  extremely tired, or if my cravings were getting the best of me, but I swear to you that the chips spoke to me as I slowly opened the bag.

“ONNNNEEE !”  The bag bellowed in a crumpled demonic tone.

“Son of a…”  I slammed the bag shut and jumped back.  I must be going mad I thought.   But I had to know, so I opened the bag again.


That’s it, I’m freakin nuts I thought, as the guttural cry continued its chant.


This king of demon carbs was drawing me in.  My hands trembled as I tried to hold back.  My mouth began to water, and I knew I was doomed.  The Siren song was strong.  This beast of the chip world released an intoxicating bouquet of tangy-zest-and-cheese that lured me even closer.  My cravings were too much, the scent to strong—I was losing the battle.


I jumped on the counter screaming, “back—back demon!” as I held my two fingers together in the sign of a cross as I had seen them do in so many cheesy Vampire movies. My wife and kids came running, and as they turned the corner into the kitchen, they stared at me with the blank look of confusion that can only be seen when a family finds dad being stupid.

“What’s wrong?” they asked in unison.

My voice quivered as I pointed to the bag, “Dor–it–ossss.”

“Huh-what-huh”, they said in a state of confusion.

“Dorrr-dorr—it-ossss…Doritosssss—they’re calling to me—CAN’T REE-SISTT,”  I bellowed as I tried to make them understand.

My kids knew dad was being stupid again—they  rolled their eyes and walked away. However,  my wife knows me well and decided to play along,   “What do you need babe” she asked.

My pulse quickened, “talk me down babe, talk me down.”

She told me everything was gonna be all right, and held up her palm toward me  as she backed slowly toward the bag . She grabbed the King of Demon carbs, fought with him, and flung the bag  back in the cabinet.

“My Hero,” I said as I jumped down into her arms and kissed her.

“You know you really are silly,”  my wife said as we looked into each others eyes and began to laugh.

“Yep, that I am.”

I learned two things from this: First, having someone to support you in times of weakness is a great benefit.  Second, cravings don’t stand a chance against silly.

Terry (whyguy)