Tortilla Chips

Florence loved tortilla chips, to the detriment of her health.

Every day for breakfast, Florence would pour a small bowl of tortilla chips. Often, she would douse this with milk, crush up the chips, and turn it into a salty cereal.

Every day for lunch, Florence took a plate, loaded it with tortilla chips, added some shredded cheese, and put it in the oven for a few minutes. Once the cheese was melted, she removed the plate and tore cheesy chips away, dipping them in salsa for some nutrition.

Every day for dinner, Florence took a full bag of tortilla chips and ate it, one chip at a time. She added nothing to it: just plain chips.

When her doctor told her she had a severe vitamin deficiency, Florence decided to correct the problem by eating more tortilla chips. While it didn’t help, it didn’t actually hinder her either; she held a static level of vitamin deficiency.

Florence died young, but her love of tortilla chips lived on. Once a year, on her birthday, her friends gathered and gorged themselves of tortilla chips until they couldn’t move, couldn’t eat another chip, and were constipated for days. Some would add salsa, cheese, or guacamole, but the majority of chips were eaten alone, unadorned, the way Florence prefered them.

On her gravestone was a simple epitaph: Florence: she loved tortilla chips.

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