Just Say "No" to the Red Dragon

I have a confession to make and it’s something I’ve been ashamed of for over a decade. I am an addict. Of course, there are your standard crack heads, meth addicts, and glue sniffers but I’m a different kind of breed. I get my high off of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos or the “Red Dragon” as we call it on the streets. Once you open the bag and taste the crunchy goodness you enter a world of utter bliss yet seam to forget the hellish hangover that ensues. With Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, I could be having the worst day imaginable but once the Red Dragon touches my lips, it’s all-good. Over the course of the semester I’ve been getting my fix in my Beatles class. (Yes, a class on the rock band, not the insect) The problem is that once I start eating, nothing around me becomes relevant and anything said goes over my head. I swear there could be a fire or earthquake and I would just sit there and munch away. Let me tell you, it’s not a pretty sight either. It’s a lot like feeding time in the tiger cage at the zoo; lots of noises with red stuff everywhere. The red powder gets on my hands, clothes, and one time was in my hair (not sure what happened there… I must have blacked out) Then of course there is the hell of forgetting to pick up napkins and your fingers looking like you came down with a bad case of syphilis. If anyone knows of a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto treatment center, I need to be checked in immediately!