A Brief Account of an Unfortunate Packet of Crisps

 A Brief Account of an Unfortunate Packet of Crisps

Whatever really happened didn’t matter in the end, not in the great scheme of things. Daily life went on before, and it certainly went on after – albeit a tad more fantastical. But whether the story you are about to read seems strange, I must inform you with the utmost sincerity that despite one death, one thrown out police report and a burial of a story from all government bodies, a day like the day a packet of crisps became sentient will never be seen again.

Did the crinkling of the shiny greasy foil make enough noise to wake them up, perhaps it was the chemicals being tested in the new formula for preparing the potato products. One thing was evident though as the first individual crisp woke from non-existence into complete sentience, the world got just a pinch weirder.

“Where am I?” One crisp asked. “Who said that?” another answered.

This went back and forth between the thirty or so dried snacks for a while longer than it might have with humans. But give them a break, this was the first time in the entire known universe that two fried potato products had engaged in a conversation. After the initial awakening and cyclical unanswered questions as to their identity, their attention switched to the reflective crumb covered packet that held them encased. Now how exactly they had the ability to “see” as we would understand it, I don’t know. The universe deemed it a gift worthy of their nature, new wonders of salt and vinegar flavouring that could seemingly speak and see.

“Can anyone move?” one crisp asked.

“No. I don’t think anyone can.” Another answered.

“That isn’t good. Does that shiny thing mean anything?” another crisp asked.

“I think it’s just the end of the world” another answered.

Their confusion is understandable, endearing even. But how would you make sense of the situation? You are suddenly awake, smelling of vinegar and salt, the only thing you can see are the reflective foil walls around you and other crinkly misshapen creatures like yourself. Given the circumstances, I think our little oven fried friends are handling it well.

“Are we moving? It feels like we are moving” one curling crisp asked as he looked around his fraction of the packet nervously.

The packet was moving. Little did the creatures suddenly blessed with life realise, but they had just been purchased from a petrol station somewhere in the Edinburgh region of Scotland. It was a beautiful day outside; their new owner had stopped by for a brief lunch on the go. Unaware again as to the part he would play in the little sentient slices of spuds place in a new terrifying world. The door slammed as Jim, the unimportant man now possessing their packet, climbed into his work van. The keys rumbled the engine into life and the radio started up by itself; it was a song by a German rock band that played while they sat motionless but extremely aware of the noises outside their shiny plastic prison.

“I don’t like the noise. What is it?” The biggest crisp in the packet asked, they sat nestled at the bottom of the bag being pressed upon with every bump and jostle.

“Someone talking – but I don’t know the words.” Another crisp answered.

“I hope they are nice” someone added from the bottom of the bag.

The van stopped with a screech, Jim was a bad driver on his best day, and the engine fell back to sleep taking the radio with it. Back in silence the little creatures inside the store-brand packaging continued their attempt to unravel the new world.

“It’s gone quiet again.”

“Good, I didn’t like that noise. I don’t want to talk to whatever is out there if they sound like that.” Another added.

“What if they don’t want to talk to us?”

“What are we?” one particularly aware crisp asked after sitting in silence and pondering new things.

This sent a chill through the bag, if they had respiratory systems it might have fogged up the metallic film all around them. Jim moved from his van to his home; the packet they called home stuffed inside the droopy pocket of his hoody.

“Ouch” one large crisp called.

The packet being stuffed into a pocket had caused a piece of his circular shape to snap off and fall to the bottom of the bag. Bouncing off the others as it descended.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“I got hurt, I think I broke” the injured crisp answered.

“I can see you, you have a piece missing.”  Another answered them but seemed unmoved emotionally by the event.

“What does that make us?” the particularly aware crisp asked another question.

“What do you mean?” someone finally answered.

Jim threw the packet down onto the table of his living room, it crashed beside a large energy drink can and a melting chocolate bar that came with the meal. If you could call it a meal, it was more of a sugar injection with the added fancy of a conscious packet of potato crisps.

“Something fell off me again. It does sort of hurt.” the big boy that was fracturing with every bump declared again.

“You look worse” another answered them, not at all comforting their concerns.

“I mean, are we meant to be like this?” the particularly aware crisp asked again – ignoring the damage being observed below.

“I am round. For sure, we are all  round.” Someone answered eagerly joining in the discussion.

“I think some of us at the bottom aren’t round. They are different shapes. They aren’t speaking either.” Another crisp answered becoming concerned.

Their bag was suddenly moving again, it was plucked from the table, and Jim pulled the creased tightly opening the packet. Light flooded into the bag and bounced off the foil walls, likely due to their unusual biology the creatures inside didn’t become blinded. Jim poured them carelessly onto the coffee table amongst the wrappers from his other snacks, a half empty can of drink and his van keys. He stood up and walked to the toilet, no doubt with no intention of washing his already dirty fingers – but this respite would give our new discoveries a moment alone to observe the new world.

“What happened!”

“The shiny walls disappeared. Where are we now?” a crisp answered with more excitement than nerves.

“I can see below. I think we are all flying” someone said.

Naturally, these little creatures had never experienced a glass table before, or any glass surfaces to that matter, now they are resting seemingly suspended above a filthy shaggy rug that could have been millions of miles below.

“We can fly. And we are normally round.” This particularly aware crisp continued to himself, piecing together the story of its existence.

Before Jim was on his way back from an unusually long toilet break, the dog of the house decided he might intervene in the lunch plans to investigate the smell. This firm bodied but clumsy minded Staffordshire terrier snuck itself across the kitchen vinyl and found the quiet places around the coffee table to catch a glimpse of his owners leftovers.

“What’s that thing!” one startled crisp exclaimed.

“Wow! Is that the thing that was talking?” someone asked.

“I don’t know. Can they hear us? HELLO!” the large broken crisp yelled.

“I don’t think that thing is our friend. I think we are in trouble.” The particularly curious and now nervous crisp said aloud. In the following madness he was ignored.

Naturally, the dog paid no attention but for a mild cock of the head in brief confusion, instead, Beefy as his somewhat loving family called him, craned his thick neck upon the table surface, and licked a crisp into his mouth. Chomping away and smacking his lips with satisfaction at the robbery.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“Did the creature take someone?”

“I think it ate them. I think it was eating them.” A crisp answered – its voice heavy with disbelief.

Beefy came up for another and jostled a crisp closer into his reach, snapping it closed between its jaws and letting small crumbs fly about the place with little globs of spit.

“I don’t think I want to stay here. This creature isn’t nice.” the fractured big crisp stated.

Just as Beefy came back up for his third bite of the buffet, the toilet flushed and Jim came thundering out of the bathroom. He screamed something at the dog which fled to its hiding place back in the kitchen, Jim wiped his hands down his trouser legs and slumped back onto the couch. Disgusted by the dogs theft and tongue marks on the glass, but not enough to stop himself enjoying the rest of his lunch.

“Who’s that now?” another crisp asked.

“I don’t know. It is very large. Much larger than the creature that was eating us.”

Jim brought his huge, rough mitts down and gathered a handful of crisps from the table. Among them was the large, fractured one. They were gone a moment later.

“That one is going to eat us as well.” Someone screamed concerned for their newly found life being munched away.

“We are round. We can fly. I think we can do something about.” Our particularly curious crisp declared. It wasn’t fixated on its doom, much like the others it knew something bad was happening – but instead of accepting, it had an idea.

“Like what?” someone asked.

Jim took another three crisps off the table and chewed them up with his mouth wide open, they never said a word either as the recently discovered life was taken unjustly.

“When it picks us up, just before we go into the hole. We all fly to the back of its mouth; I think it’s the white things that are hurting us.”

Obviously, the little curious savant of the packet was indicating human teeth, or canine had it continued being a dog problem, but the crisp was onto something regardless. Much less aware that “flying” was in fact NOT something it could do, but this would matter very little in the coming moments.

“Okay.” The remaining crisps answered glumly.

Up they went, past the teeth they travelled before Jim released from his greasy finger tips. Just at the second they felt the pressure of his grip ease, through a movement caused by something we still do not understand. They did indeed roll, fall, fly, traverse or walk their way to the back of Jim’s cherry red throat. What came next might have been easy to summarise, Jim choked and as he lived entirely alone but for dear Beefy not all too scared to leave his kitchen bed. Jim would choke to death and fall head first through that glass coffee table still littered with his wrappers and the half full can of fizzy.

“Did we do it?” someone asked.

“It’s too dark. I can’t see.” Another called back.

“We are still talking. So, I think we didn’t get eaten.” The particularly curious crisp answered them both proudly.

Jim let out his final death rattle and with it his jaw fell open, the outside world lighting up the inside of his mouth. Like curtains being pulled back on a blissful spring morning. Our surviving crisps, no more than five, rolled forward again either through sheer force of the world around them or some unknown method of magic.

“What do we do now?” one of the crisps asked the others.

They all looked at each other, they looked at the back of Jim’s yellowing teeth covered with the soft gooey leftovers of their bag-mates and out at the living room.

“I think we can leave?” the curious crisp said.

“Where do we go?”

“Hmmm” the curious leader of the pack mumbled, the question would have him thinking for a while. They all sat and waited for his answer.

Well, the world continued turning at a pace the small crispy creatures hadn’t quite understood just yet, Jim became stiffer and as Beefy began to stir in his kitchen bed – it was getting close to his usual dinner time and Jim wasn’t going to be opening that can of slop. When the police arrived, our crisps hadn’t come up with a plan, perhaps the neighbours called about the noise from Jim’s collapse or perhaps his work had reported him not returning from break. Nevertheless, Jim was dead and the police had now arrived to break down his door for a wellness check, it wouldn’t be a successful one naturally. Just as the police car pulled up onto the curb outside Jim’s home, noticing his work van in the drive and the curtains wide open. Beefy grew too impatient to wait any longer for his dinner, it was time to investigate. Out he trod and into the living room he tiptoed, awaiting a call to return to his bed from a master who was less than generous with old Beefy boy the bull terrier.

“I think that first creature is coming back.” One of the crisps called out – spotting the dog on his way to check on his already cold master.

“Nobody move.” The curious crisp ordered.

Not an ideal tactic but what else might a terrifying cut of potatoes have up his crumbly sleeve when disaster strikes.

Beefy circled his master’s body and whined as the realisation that something had had gone wrong struck him. Quickly this dissipated as the dog licked at his owners dry but still uncleaned mouth, clinging to fragments of his last sad meal. Beefy was mercifully distracted for a while as he explored Jim’s mouth with his large flat tongue, seeking out the flavour he could smell behind Jim’s teeth. The crisps watched silently as the creature seemed to fixate on the larger creatures face. But Beefy grew tired of this just in time for the police to knock on the door, as they reported it the occupant never answered and they had no other solution but to break the door down as an emergency. Beefy turned his attention to the knocks on the door for a second, letting out a little grumbling growl. Then down to the crisps sat just out of reach of Jim's chin. His canine nose confirmed with all starving certainty that the crisps had been indeed edible, his lips smacked with saliva.

The police continued knocking as Beefy ate his first crisp.

Then the thump of the battering ram hit the door frame and Beefy jumped but continued on eating his second crisp.

Then a third, then a fourth.

Finally, it was just our particularly curious but sadly naïve salt and vinegar crisp.

The door to Jim and Beefy’s home suddenly fell in, the police charged into the room and Beefy fled out the door past them. Sadly, they never mentioned Beefy again in the reports and stories that came out after the events of that peculiar day. In his final startled scramble, the dog knocked our particularly curious crisp out of harm’s way as the stomping boots surrounded Jim's newly dead body.

What came next is unclear, some reports have it as follows whereas countless online stories, magazine articles and online videos will claim otherwise. Anyhow, the original and now entirely scrubbed reports read as such: They cleared the room and a pair of officers watched through the window as Jim's body was placed into the ambulance, taken away for an autopsy that showed just a simple cause of death – choking at home. Then for reasons unclear and otherwise lost to public record, the little curious crisp felt something brave in himself, bravery enough to speak aloud.

“Hello?”

The officers looked down around and outside, confirming nobody was present but themselves and the ghost of dearly departed Jim.

“Hello, could you help me please.”

The officers looked down at the ground and not far from the yellow tag indicating the location of Jim's head, was a small potato crisp. They watched the spot eagerly and leapt back in disbelief as it called out one last time.

“I think I want to leave now.”

What happened to our little curious crisp is unknown, some claim it never existed in the first place, and this was just a silly story made up to scare kids into chewing their food. Others will say that it was a grand government cover-up to hide the experiments they are doing with our food, some genetically modified fried fritter given more of a boost to grow than they expected. But on that afternoon, the police report listed no witnesses.

That was not strictly true.