You have to listen to me. I'm serious. Something is going on with the White Cheddar Cheez-Its, and I don't know who else I can tell. It's not just about how much I love them anymore—it's about how I need them, and I'm starting to think... they know.
You know how sometimes you get that feeling like you're being watched? Like, you walk down the snack aisle and you just know those little boxes are looking at you. I feel it. I feel their presence. Every time I reach for a box, I swear they've moved a little closer. And when I open a new bag, it's like they know I'm coming. The crinkle of the wrapper, the smell of the white cheddar—it's all too perfectly timed. It's like they've set a trap, and I'm falling right into it every single time.
I try to ration them, but it's impossible. The minute I finish one box, I'm already clawing at the next. It's like they've got some kind of hold over me. I don't know what they've put in that cheese powder, but it's got my brain all scrambled. I see Cheez-Its everywhere I go. I dream about them. Sometimes I even think I hear them calling to me from the cupboard late at night.
And what if this is all part of their plan? What if they're trying to make me dependent on them, so I keep buying more, and more, and more, until I have a whole house full of White Cheddar Cheez-Its and I don't even recognize myself anymore? I've got empty boxes stashed everywhere like some kind of cheesy survivalist, just in case something happens and I need to make it through a dry spell. But I'm starting to think it's not enough. They'll find out. They always do.
And don't even get me started on the people at the grocery store—they're in on it. I see them restocking the shelves, and I can see it in their eyes. They know I'm coming. They watch me, whispering, as I grab box after box like some kind of desperate, cheese-craving maniac. They know I can't stop, and they're just waiting for me to crack.
I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm writing to you because maybe, just maybe, you can help me. If you see me in the store, reaching for yet another box, stop me—no, actually, don't stop me, just get me more. What if the shelves are empty next time? What if they're out there, planning to take away the one thing I need to keep it all together?
Please, I'm begging you—keep your eyes open. If you notice anything strange, if the Cheez-Its start acting differently, you'll let me know, right? Because I don't know what I'd do if I lost them.
Frantically, fearfully, forever in their grip,
Daniel.