Beam me up, Chester. I know, I know, I’m mixing my chips mascots. So I’m sitting here doing some online shopping for por… Portnoy’s Complaint first editions, that’s the ticket, and I’m snacking on a little dollar-sized bag of Chili Cheese Fritos. Still with me? I don’t wanna go too fast and lose you. So I reach into the bag and retrieve a single Frito, a.k.a. FritoSolo to those in the industry, and bring it up to my mouth. Apparently, my success rate of managing to put a Frito in my mouth without any mishaps along the way is not as high as I would have thought. I reached for my mouth yet brushed the Frito against my lip with just the right force, from the just right angle to cause me to fumble my Frito just like I were Mark Sanchez running into a butt. But here’s where things get interesting. In my peripheral vision I saw the Frito fall. It fell straight down, as Fritos tend to fall, and struck the outside of the hand-pouch of my hoodie and bounced then to I know not where. No, really, I don’t know where. I roll back in my chair and look down to find the fallen Frito and it is nowhere to be seen. I mean, no where. This is a simple desk with four legs and there’s no clutter about the floor. There are no little animals running about who could have some snatched it before I could find it. There’s nothing on the floor for it to fall behind. It didn’t fall into my hoodie pouch. I checked multiple times. This Frito fucking flew the coop. The Frito has vanished. This is one freaky Frito. I don’t mind telling you, I’m afraid to drop anything else. Share with us all your banal curiosities. Put your keys in the fridge and your purse in the oven? Your car mysteriously move to the other side of the parking lot while you were inside shopping? Put our minds at ease so we can rest with the comforting knowledge we’re all equally one Frito away from madness.