(This last issue of the State Press Magazine is a mock version of the campus daily, the State Press. All names, quotes and events are fictitious. Read it for fun or not at all.)
I know what you think when you look at me. It's the same thing everyone thinks: sweet and wholesome Lil' Debbie. But maybe you need to take a harder look at me.
My snack cakes have been satisfying hunger and low blood sugar for nearly a hundred years now. In that time, you've watched me grow up right in front of you, so don't tell me you can't see what I've become.
I saw you looking at me in aisle 4 last week. I heard you talking about how good my cream pies were looking and how you wanted to get your hands on my honey buns. Don't be ashamed, I'm not a little girl anymore. But frankly, I don't think you're ready to bump this jelly.
I need a man who is all about me. Lil' Debbie doesn't have time for players getting all up in her stuff. This is some top choice cream up for bid and a boy like you can't handle stuff this sweet. Lil' Debbie is the real thing.
Oh please! You think that Dolly Madison whore has something on me? The only thing that D.M.W. has on me is her nutra-sweet implants. What, you thought they were sugar? Not even close. She is artificial from head to toe.
Besides, I'm not saying you can't eat other snack cakes. You can lick the cream straight out an Oreo's crack for all I care. Do what you want, but know that even though I've been in the grocery market for a long time, I won't stay on the singles market forever. So you better make up your mind soon, or somebody else is going to make the decision for you.
Stop treating me like a child and look upon what you've been blinded to all these years. Pick me up, put me in your mouth and let me ride along your taste buds. Sure, you did it back when you were a kid, when neither of us really knew what we were doing. But now, with our refined tastes, we could knock the stripes off my zebra-cakes.
So what's it going to be, are you a boy or a man? That's what I like to hear. But as a warning, my pimp is at the front of the store at the counter and he is going to want to see some green before he let's me go anywhere. $3.50 ought to cover it.
Girl, you are lookin' fine. Now I've been watching you since I was nothing but a bag of flour, some sugar and a cup of water in a bowl. But even then, I could tell you would be something special.
So why don't you come on over here and let me make you a woman! How's about I let you have a taste of my cream filling. What do you say sweet thing? Now I know you've probably heard some rumors considering my sexuality so let me clear those up right now.
That whole thing about me and the Green Giant is bullshit. For one thing, he's a vegetable product, so even if I were gay I wouldn't go cross-grocer product sexing, that's nasty. Second, the Green Giant has his hands full with Sprout, if you know what I mean. Let's just say the little guy was named after a vegetable to which he bears some similarities.
The whole rumor got started by that Mrs. Butterworth ho, because she just wanted to get me all stickied up with her love juice, but I had none of it. You're the one that I want Lil' Debbie, so come on over baby.
Just give me the word and you can make me rise faster than yeast. Oh, that's just a saying we have baby, don't worry about a yeast infection. I'm completely safe, I promise. I'll make you a deal. First, I'll let you poke me in the stomach to hear my girlish giggle, and then I'll poke you. What do you say?
You say you're not a girl, but it's time to put out or shut up. If you want to be a woman there is no greater right of passage than kneading my dough. Hm Hm! Just take it in your hands and roll it around a little bit. Then, put it in your oven and when it's good and hard it's ready to eat.
I just hope Lil' Debbie isn't too accurate a description of you, because it takes a large oven to bake my dough. So what do you say toots? Are you ready to step up and get Pillsburied? I hope you've preheated your oven because we're going to cook at 400 degrees...for 20-25 minutes.
Reach the author at joshua.deahl@asu.edu
