How Much Does The Best Food Cost?
It costs a dollar. Roughly. I have put nearly 30 years of thought into this and I have officially decided: the best food in the world is an ice cream sandwich.
A few rules: it should be bought individually, wrapped in that paper stuff with the folded corners (no clear wrappers!), and it must be eaten outside, preferably while walking. Whether you lick the cakey, leftover chocolate parts off of the wrapper and/or your fingers is up to you, though why would you not lick it off your fingers? You aren’t walking around on this lovely summer evening clutching a NAPKIN in your non-dominant hand are you? That kind of ruins it.
Just give the person at the counter a single dollar, stride along the sidewalk exclaiming to your companions how fucking good ice cream sandwiches are, feel like a fat kid again, except now you could march right back in there and buy yourself a dozen of them and eat them all at once and no one will blink an eye. But you won’t. Too much of a good thing, etc. Hold hands if the opportunity arises, look at the moon, let go of the person’s hand because you need to focus all of your sensory input on this ice cream thing. In between bites comment on how nice or how awful the weather is, then transition into your lamentation on how small ice cream sandwiches are. Your companion didn’t get an ice cream sandwich. He thought maybe you’d give him a bite or two. Bullshit! Eat faster before he catches on he isn’t getting any. Keep talking about how small they are so he gets the hint. Or are they just small enough? Perfectly contained. He’s talking now but you aren’t listening. Look at the wrapper, consider licking it. There’s even some ice cream on it, too. “Hey, you want this?” you say. Hand the empty wrapper to your friend then run away laughing into the night.