Why Pringles Are Evil

Pringles. The silent killer? Well maybe not but still. Pringles are the only known potato chip known to man that come in a tube. Now what good and holy thing, my prettys come in a tube? Thats right...diddly. Other then yogurt and glue. Both of which are tasty and gooey. But why oh why did the Pringles chip company choose to place their product in a tube? Only I in my incedibly beautfiul features could find out. With some money we raised by robbing ban.....I mean bake sales, the contributers of this blog bought a plane ticket and headed to where ever it is Pringles are made. We brought a camera along too to catch the whole thing on film. Unfortunatly, Introspective Irishman and his lack of english skills aparent brought a camera camera not a film camera. Eventually we wandered away from the tourgroup (with some delectable snacks I might add) and ended up in the CEO's office. There we saw the face of Pringles. Quite literally. He looked exactly like the picture on the can. Hair parted in the middle, no nose to speak of, massive handlebar moustache and a pasty complex. It was no surprise that he spoke with a British accent then. He claimed that when Pringles first started they were going to be a tennis ball delievery company. But unfortuantly ast that time they had a "wacko" as a CEO. A creepy man with a glass eye and constantly talks about how he "killed fitty men with a flyin' fish", Mr. Baxter. So the new formed Pringles company started up and waited for the first shipment of tennis balls. Unfortunatlier, a mistake on the shipping order said potatoes and not tennis balls. At that point Mr. Pringle took over and thrust the creepy Mr. Baxter out of the company. and as the trucks rolled in and the employees gasped with shock Mr. Pringles said, "What the heck? Cut em up. " Ergo cementing his place in history. When asked about the whereabouts of the former CEO Mr Baxter, we were promptly shown out of the factory. But as luck would have it there on the street corner was a small stand. And lo and behold Mr. Baxter, creepy eye and all was there selling beets. "BEETS! BEETS!" he screamed at us. Slowly stirring the pot of bubbling beets and what appeared to be flying fish.
So my little munchkins what is the moral of my derranged and highly improbable story? I have little or no idea. Find out for yourselves. So think, live, love and eat beets.
Adieu.
THAT CLOCK is making faces at me!