(I hope my artist/designer friends will forgive me for the visual atrocity I am foisting on the world, but I this is important information.)
My Puff daddy failed me. I went back to get my fix, and all I heard were crickets chirping when I asked where my bags were.
There were none at Store No. 9 either, and the chunky, pimply, lunch-eating clerk rudely informed me they didn’t sell well and they would not be getting any more.
What’s an addict to do?
Well, put out an APB to her friends, for one.
If you see Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Puffs, please notify this authority immediately. Do not try to detain the suspect yourself. The suspect is considered flamed and delicious.


