What I need most when I see Dwayne “The John”son kill a man is to have inverted vegetables.
When you go to your local dream factory, and say “1 ticket for me to have a dream about two dogs that fall in love,” you know you need a head-sized bucket of the oiled Yellowcrop, superheated until it gets much too big and strong and it explodes into frightening new shapes.
The Good Fine Corn! The Warmcorn.
Think back to when you saw your first movie. As is required by the government, your first movie had to be about nine ducks realizing God is real (I know that over the course of the movie, one of the ducks defies God and is promptly melted by Superman…so really it’s eight ducks. But that’s a huge spoiler that you’re not supposed to know about and it doesn’t happen until much later; the whole movie still got the stamp of approval from the President. It’s fine to watch it, you can watch it despite it being eight ducks instead of nine at the end). What snack was it that crossed thine lips?
Wet Vines? No.
Megadud, the Milk Duds that morphed into one mighty dud? Wrong again. Your memory is awful.
Cilantro? No, that goes into the Megadud.
Coldcorn? All right, you’re getting close. This was a good guess. I’m gonna put back this huge axe I was about to kill you with.
Roomtempcorn? Not quite. I would like you to pick up the pace now. This bores me. I’m grabbing the axe again.
Yes! Yes, it’s warmcorn. The only element in the periodic table that you can detonate and then eat. The only dream snack that is pulled out of the ground and screamed at by a microwave until it changes its name. Have you ever in all your life dared to imagine a consumable more peculiar than these steaming Teeth of the Dirt?
If you duct-taped two buckets of warmcorn together, with the mouth end of both buckets kissing each other, and then rolled it down the stairs, it would probably kill whoever was at the bottom. That’s because the heat from the corn has nowhere to go but into the other bucket’s sizzling mouth, creating a deadly corn reaction. It’s a similar concept to when you make out with your friend while walking sideways…someone always dies, right? Same thing here.
The bulbous white shapes look like wigs that George Washington might wear. This is why for one summer in ’74, they were called Lil’ Washingtons. I drove around in a Chevelle and killed every hitchhiker I could find. That was a great summer but then they changed the name right back to warmcorn and I stopped.
I’ve been informed that I have to stop writing this before I accidentally win another Pulitzer. But I’ll leave you with this: Warmcorn is older than the dinosaurs and every fistful of the stuff was around to watch them die. Think about that the next time you catch a Disney Plus Original Movie about a boat ride to Hell.
All hail the Warmcorn!