Recently, some guy was walking around my yard. I gave him my usual; one thousand and seven manic, “I’m going to bury you in the azaleas if you don’t leave immediately” barks. Normally I would save such vitriol for the evil Amazon driver, or my most bitterly hated enemy, UPS. But something about the pompous way this man strolled into my yard unabated, aroused a level of contempt inside of me usually reserved for those employed in the parcel delivery business. Anyway, out of nowhere, the perpetrator rolled a solid, rock-hard ball the size of a large grape fruit. Being unable to refrain from chasing anything that moves, I of course retrieved this oddity, much to the delight of the trespasser.

“Let’s see you chew THAT!,” announced my amused foe.

“Challenge accepted,” I thought.

Now, normally this blog is about sticks. I get it. Maybe you don’t come here to read about extruded foam, plastic styrene, or any other such petroleum product, but something came over me that I can only describe as “fear of missing out.” What secrets are contained inside this hunk of stabilized styrofoam? I had to find out.

It took several hours, but eventually, I got a tooth indented into the hard outer shell. Nothing about it tasted good, but I can only compare the experience akin to when an alcoholic consumes something like mouth-wash. He just can’t help it.

To be honest, I kind of blacked out, and when I came to, all that was left of this devil’s temptation is what’s pictured here above. My owner says I vomited seven times over the course of three hours, but I believe he may be exaggerating. I would say that I would never try something like this again, but let’s face it, we all know I would.