Ah, Halloween. A time for ghosts and goblins... and ingestion of considerable calories in tiny, bite-sized chocolate bars ... the secret location of which only you and the other adult(s) in your home know for sure.
It is always on this day of the year that we think of the
Halloween Diet humour column written by the late Ron Petrie, published first in the
Regina Leader-Post on October 30, 2004 and then again on page 210 of our
Running of the Buffalo book of Ron Petrie's wonderful, witty columns.
Here, for your enjoyment, is Halloween Diet by Ron Petrie:
Halloween Diet
Today I come to you with the most fantastic news in the entire history of
miracle weight-loss diets, as follows:
Umnph ew, Appums.
Questions?
Q: Yes. I have a question. What was that, Norwegian?
A: What? “Umnph ew, Appums”? No, not Norwegian. “Umnph ew, Appums” is an
approximation, a phonetic attempt to transcribe human speech as the human mouth
savours the great taste of a whole fudge particle rolled in a roasted peanut
speck and smothered in two jots of creamy milk chocolate, while, at the same
time, the human brain attempts to speak, in so many words (three words, two of
which – “Umnph ew” -- are an extremely impolite phrase) its thought that the
human body no longer requires the services of Dr. Atkins (“Appums”), founder of
the absurdly popular low-carb diet. A much more effective weight-loss program,
the last diet North Americans will ever need, has been discovered.
Q: And?
A: Yes. Of course. The most fantastic news, the lasting cure for the obesity
epidemic of the western world:
The All-U-Can-Eat Minuscule Oh Henry Diet.
You know those Halloween-size Oh Henry bars? What you do is, you gobble down
those little babies like nobody’s business. Help yourself. Pig out. Mmmm-mmm.
You go, boy! You go, girl! Woo-woo!
Then watch the pounds melt away.
Q: But aren't peanuts, fudge and chocolate all fattening?
A: Doesn’t matter. All that matters is size. Perhaps you have not noticed,
but this year’s trick-or-treat version of all the popular chocolate bars looks
even smaller than it was in 2003, just like it was the year previous, and the
year before that, down through every known Halloween, ever diminishing at the
same exponential shrinkage rate as both the type size in newspapers and that
dangblasted wee screw that's always working loose in the hinges of the
bifocals. Probably if you go back in time to the very first Halloween, when the
Pilgrims, as a gesture of appreciation to the Indians for their kindness in
helping the colony survive its first season in a harsh new land, put on
disguises and went from teepee to wigwam with open pillow cases demanding
sweets or else -- back then, your so-called “candy bar” was probably nothing
more than a simple chocolate-covered wafer twice the size of the Mayflower and
emblazoned with the words “Kit Kat”. And next year, goodness knows, in 2005, if
the trend continues, the kids will still dump out their bags to see exactly
what treats they managed to score, expect to do so, instead of running back
home, they'll be running back to Saskatoon, for the help of the synchrotron
microscope.
Or the planet will have blown up, on account of Hershey having successfully
split the chocolate atom.
Q: So? Rather than tear into one pre-1974, standard-size tasty Oh Henry bar,
nowadays you scarf back the equivalent weight in the teensy-weensy edition, or
roughly 17 dozen. You are still ingesting in the same number of calories. Like,
duh. What are you, wrong in the head, stupid on arithmetic, a complete
scientific moron, more confused than a daylight saving time advocate?
A: Hey, hey, hey! No need for that kind of talk!
Q: You're right. Sorry. Let me rephrase. So, what are you, wrong in the
head, stupid on arithmetic, a complete scientific moron?
A: Actually, none of the above. Your calorie comparison is quite correct.
What you have forgotten, however, is that each Halloween Oh Henry is
individually wrapped. It is a fact of biophysics that every human activity, be
it jogging, breathing, weight-lifting, winking -- no matter how great, no
matter how small -- requires an expenditure of energy, except for
column-writing. The very action of fetching and unwrapping a minuscule Oh Henry
from the pile resting on your belly as you sprawl out on the sofa burns off
more calories -- nano-calories, actually -- than contained in the entire
sub-atomic chocolate bar itself. You actually eat your way to a slimmer you.
Q: Hang on ...
Why, this actually makes sense, at least mathematically. What practical test
results have you?
A: Me. I have been subsisting for more than a week now on the ultra-peewee Oh
Henry bars that my wife keeps purchasing and failing to hide properly. And look
at me, here I go again, reaching for yet another one. I cannot get enough of
the delicious little beggars. Clearly I am working up a power appetite, running
a calorie-deficit, wasting away, and believe me, it's not from aerobic workout.
Q: Or it could be that you're in a guilt spiral, rationalizing your
gluttony.
A: Probably. But, hey, what the umnph?
Originally published in the Regina Leader-Post on October 30, 2004
