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(More customer reviews)As I sit here, with a mouth full of this fine Kraft product, I can't help but remember that fateful December afternoon. The war had ended some time ago, yet you could still hear the resentment resonating through the townsfolk's gnashed teeth. Jake and I were at the bar, as usual, trying to drink away the sun. The barkeep, sliding a filthy rag across the counter, squinted as he tried to read our shirts. He let a grin escape and shook his head.
"You got a problem, old man?" Jake took off his glasses.
The barkeep ran his forearm across his wrinkled face. "Ain't no problem here. You boys have guts, is all, wearin' those Kraft logos around these parts. This is a Stouffer's county."
Jake stood up, sliding his stool back across the hardwood floor. "If I wanted to choke down frozen food, I'd move my ass to Alaska. I'll take The Cheesiest any day." We used to call him Jake the Patriot. Always looking for a fight. I grabbed his arm in a vain attempt to pacify him. Looking around the room, I saw we were vastly outnumbered.
"Choose your next words carefully, son. Don't look like you're makin' many friends here." The bar patrons began edging closer to us. There was a wild look in their eyes; the kind that only came from malnutrition. I felt a moment of pity for them. Who could deny the inherent benefits of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?
Jake discreetly slipped brass knuckles on underneath the counter. "You heard me." He turned, addressing the whole room. "Stouffer's is garbage." The patrons exploded. Frozen bricks of macaroni were tossed at us. We fought off near twenty men, leaving each one with regret. Jake turned back to the barkeep, spitting blood onto the floor. "That, old man, is why Kraft will always win."
As we walked out, stepping over the injured men on the ground, the old man called after us. "You boys forgot one thing." He walked to the back-room door. "Mastodons love Stouffer's." He flung open the door and dove under the bar. A giant mastodon crashed through the frame, charging directly at us. I luckily threw myself out of the way. Jake, the poor kid, was not so fortunate. I watched in horror as the giant animal gored him with its tusks. It dropped Jake, looked around, and walked out as quickly as it came. I ran over to Jake's body, crying out. He looked up at me, his life slowly slipping away.
"Keep up the good fight, buddy. Never forget what Stouffer's has done to me. Tell the world." He was gone. Since that day, a rage has been building inside me. This injustice cannot be forgiven.
I call upon all of you to eat the delicious Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in memory of Jake. Tell your friends. As you're stirring The Cheesiest cheese into boiled macaroni, just think. One day, we will be able to live without fear of the Stouffer's Mastodon.
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