Monday, February 7, 2011

The Barbecue Man

They called him The Barbecue Man. Barbecue was his flavour; when pizza was ordered, he asked for barbecue; when he went to McDonald's, it was a McBarbecue he ate. He had a stash of barbecue sauce bottles in his house that he replenished quite often.

That one day, they were at a bar watching a football game. Everyone was having a pint of Jupiler, but for him. He didn't like beer. Well, he did, but only that very dark kind of beer. It reminded him of spare ribs with barbecue sauce.
His childhood had been hard.

Anyway, they were watching that football match and he was having that spare rib flavoured beer when the referee signalled half-time. And then, there it was. The new ad from Pringles®.
Apparently, the mad scientists that develop new flavours for the not-a-potato-snack company had synthetized the essence of the barbecue taste and so the new Pringles® Barbecue arrived to the market.

The Barbecue Man opened his eyes wide in disbelief. Finally, the field of not-potato-snacks opened to his tastebuds! Years of envy of other people when they popped open a can were over! Their satisfied smiles when they had a cheese-with-onion wave-shaped mouthful would be his!

They saw him leaving his beer on the table, getting his coat and rushing to the door, and they followed him. He looked like a lioness hunting, eyes and ears open, nose sniffing for a prey.

The shop's was the only light on in the alley. Inside, a pakistani man was reading the newspaper while listening to the news on the radio and watching a BBC News program on a muted TV.
He jolted in surprise when The Barbecue Man slammed the door open. And he was followed by a crowd.

The Barbecue Man looked with his red eyes to the shopkeeper and said:
- Pringles®. Barbecue.

The shopkeeper gave him the can and The Barbecue Man looked eagerly at it while he payed. Then he popped it open and pulled the lid out. A barbecue smell flooded the shop. The Barbecue Man took a single Pringle® from the can. He handled it like it was a newborn child. Then, slowly, almost reverently, he bit into it.

It tasted like egg.