BBQ Beef Hula Hoops (Original)

“Those coquettish little rings should be enjoyed in private.”

“Watch how long that long-necked bird can hold its breath underwater,” said the Ventrilocrisp, pointing. Floating atop the murky lake, the bird plunged suddenly forwards, its grey feathers dipping below the brown water, out of sight. The rippling rings grew smaller, until the lake’s surface was calm again. Seconds passed, then minutes. Soft, fluffy ducklings bobbed; a red-headed moorhen paddled. The bird did not reappear.

The Ventrilocrisp is good at waiting. For years, it has waited for BBQ Beef Hula Hoops to re-emerge in their original form. As with the bird, the Ventrilocrisp was unsure whether it would see them again.

The Ventrilocrisp was rewarded, therefore, when the original variety resurfaced in a nearby corner shop. The smaller packet bulged pleasingly with its plentiful cargo, like a spider’s loaded egg sac. For both in quantity and in substance, the original Hulas are superior to the giant hoops that succeeded them. The bigger the hoop, you see, the bigger the hole. And what use is that?

As a vegetarian, the Ventrilocrisp long believed that this was not a crisp it could enjoy. How wrong it was! Long ago, it asked a companion to describe the taste of steak, trying to understand its appeal. She deliberated. “It’s like Marmite,” she said. “You’d probably enjoy it.”

And so, when the Ventrilocrisp first sampled the BBQ Beef Hulas, it held this in mind. The Hulas’ strong, yeasty taste is exactly like Marmite! The familiar hoop is firm and bready, yielding to the tooth with perfect crunch. The seasoning —redolent, thick, salty— is exquisite, lingering warm in the mouth like a lover’s kiss.

The giant BBQ Hulas have become a staple of the Ventrilocrisp’s diet, but it is sorry to say that they are, unfortunately, burdened by stigma. It was always ashamed to be caught with the bag at its desk, its breath heavy with the smell of beef. These coquettish little rings should be enjoyed in private.

A disturbance on the lake’s glassy surface. “There”, said the Ventrilocrisp finally, pointing to a faraway movement behind the pedalos. The bird emerged briefly, before it plunged back down into the darkness, not to be seen again.

Great things demand great patience. For the original Hulas, the Ventrilocrisp will wait.

  • Repurchase? ☑️
  • Recommend to a friend? ☑️
  • Eat this crisp in public? ❎
  • Consider the price to be right? ☑️
  • Need to wash hands after consumption? ❎

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