The front of my Doritos� bag reads, "SPICY LOUD TASTE!" Startled, I drop the bag. Wh-what could be making the "noise" in my Nacho-Cheez-flavored-powder-covered tortilla chips? Something more gruesome than I care to witness. After dropping the bag, I kick it across the room. No loud tastes for me! No, sir!
But the bag is motionless. Not a sound coming from it. It seems harmless. I walk across the room to where the bag lies and watch it for a moment. I poke it with my foot but it doesn't groan, or moan, or wheeze or anything. I kick it again. Maybe it's playing dead. But, again, no sound or motion from the bag. My fear ebbs a bit. There's nothing uncanny taking place here. No noises where tastes ought to be, or vice versa. Everything is fine.
Perhaps this bag was manufactured without the "loud taste" and I don't have to worry about any bizarre, misplaced senses catching me off guard. I feel safe now. The bag is lifeless. Casting wariness aside, I grab the bag by its ends and with a mighty, brazen heave tear it asunder, exposing its innards to the outside world. From it escapes a cheesy aroma; cheesy in scent, not sound. Emboldened, I plunge my hand into the sack and wrap my fingers spontaneously around one of the chips therein, caring not for any cry or plea it may emit via touch.
The chip is taciturn. I silently thank my olfactory and tactile senses for remaining loyal to their traditional roles of sensory input. Running with my luck, I rip the chip from its brethren and out of the bag entirely. As it emerges into light, my eyes shut out of fear and anxiety. I bring the chip up to my face, yet my eyes remain shut.
"No!" I shout. "I will be brave!" Slowly, seemingly over the span of hours, my lids rise and my eyes focus, crossing to witness what I hold before me. A chip. Orange with artificial dust, curved from deep-frying, speckled with burn marks. Nothing odd. I exhale a breath I never knew I was holding. Whew! Everything remains as it should be. I check the chip from every angle. My inspection complete, I peer into the sack from whence my culprit came, hoping for no surprise audio or visual assaults.
Cocky with my success, I smirk at the contents of the bag. "Loud taste, indeed," I chuckle. Raising my voice, I heckle the chips by shouting, "ONLY I CAN MAKE THE NOISE, CHEEZY SNACK FOODS! MY VOLUME IS IMMENSE WHEREAS YOURS IS MUTE!" Victorious, I pounce upon my prey, the single chip in my hand, and devour it whole.
Crunch.
Whoa. Almost tricked me there. The clever chip knew it would make an amplified crunchy crunch in my mouth and I almost fell for it. I almost took the sound for taste--a LOUD, SPICY taste. Hell, the sound occurred in my mouth. How much closer to flavor can a chip get? But I am wise.
Taste is taste, sound is sound, and everything is as it should be. Thank you, Order, for once again taking my side.
