May 2004 (v6 i6)
Going down in elevators since 1997
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See here: you’re giving me a complex
by C12H24O12, Complex Carbohydrate

Please stop your jabberin’ about me behind my back. Err, what’s that? I can’t quite hear you. Oh. You’re not, eh? Ma’am, I don’t mean to be calling you a liar, but my ears are burning harder than one of you youngster’s compact disc roms right now. I was there at Mr. Patty’s Meat Piehole. I know you ordered the “Quadruple Bacon Cheesepounder” with no bun because of your new “carb-friendly” diet. Well, I just wanted to say that you’re no friend of mine! Go sit on it!

I apologize. I didn’t mean to get so blue in the presence of a lady. I’ve just been storing up all this anger. See, that’s what I do — I store up all them energies you need. Energy you need to climb atop one of those shiny red stools at your local soda shop, or to stay out until half past 10 to dance the jitterbug with your favorite fella. Heck, you need me like a proton needs an electron, like guanine needs cytosine, like Joanie needs Chachi!

Maybe a little story would help you understand how important I am. Did you ever hear the one about the grasshopper and the ant? No? Well it goes a little something like this: Once, there was this summer where the sun did beat down on a man’s back harder than your mama’s switchboard. And there’s this here ant that saves up all these carbohydrates for the upcomin’ winter. But there’s also a lazy, good for nothing grasshopper that thinks he ain’t gonna need no carbohydrates. Well, come winter, the ant lives, and that son-of-a-bitch grasshopper dies. I guess you could say the moral of the story is, “Eat carbs or kick the bucket.”

Now, I know you might be thinking, “But C12H24012, I won’t be like the grasshopper. I’m simply too portly to enjoy carbs,” but I swear on the ATP cycle that you are just as thin today, as you were the first day we met. Remember? Texas State Fair 1964? You were only four, but you knew the important carbohydrates a corny dog had to offer a pretty young thing like yourself. We’ve been together for 40 years, and now you’ve left me for that Don Juan of the nutrients, Protein.

Now see here, Protein is nothing more than a scheming string of amino acids. He’s a scoundrel, riding off of my years and years of bond-breaking work and pretending he’s the head honcho around here. I’m the body’s preferred source of energy, but you don’t hear that on your Subway and Sonic television commercials, do you?

Jeepers, I hope I’m not coming off as desperate. Growing popularity of anti-carbism has left me so insecure. You should feel down-right rotten for your intolerance of carbohydrates. Remember: you are rubber and I am glucose, so whatever you say bounces of you and sticks to me-cose. So be nice.
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