Dear Double Cheese Cheetos,
You had me at Double Cheese. The Limited Edition tag was just a little extra marketing to convince I needed to buy you. Who wouldn’t want double the mysterious cheese flavor you provide? Who wouldn’t want the fun of licking off the double the orange residue left on your fingers (medical name: Cheeto finger)? Not me. I bought two of the 99 cent bags. One for me, and one for my girlfriend, Katie. You two should really meet. I think you’d like her, Cheetos. She’s fun! And she also likes your cousin, Original Cheetos.
Apparently your marketing more towards adults now. I can appreciate that. While I may act like a man-child on occasion; in truth I’m only 37% man-child. The other 63% of me was needing a little something more from you. And you delivered.
Or so I thought. Double Cheese Cheetos, I don’t know how to say this. I hate having to be the person who tells you that for all the double cheese you promise, you actually taste exactly like Original Cheetos. Only slightly pastier. Sure, there’s a slight aftertaste from the extra cheese powder the bag has been doused with. But in the end, I can’t tell the difference between you and your cousin. It’s like one day I went on a date with Patty Lane, but the next date she switched places with Cathy Lane. Their cousins, Cheetos! Identical cousins all the way. One pair of matching bookends. And that’s how I feel about you, Double Cheese Cheetos. Your bag may be different, and you may be limited edition, but you taste way too similar to Original Cheetos to kick up much of a fuss.
I’m sorry to disappoint you so soon in our relationship.
You’ll always be in my thoughts.
P.S. Can you get me the phone number to your other cousin, Chili Limón? She sounds muy caliente!