Welcome to “Daddy Food,” a column in which writer Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) explores the (often hilarious) realities of eating when you have small humans to feed as well as yourself.
This was the idea that I had—an idea that, at the time, I thought was actually even a little good: I’m going to eat 40 Little Debbie Chocolate Swiss Rolls.
That was the entire idea.
A Little Debbie Chocolate Swiss Rolls is this kind of this sponge cake thing and it comes in packs of two and they taste like they fell straight out of God’s perfect cock. So I was going to eat 40 of them and then write about what happened. It was going to be written as a timeline. My hope was that the writing would reflect a slow decent into insanity and then cruise rightthefuck past crazy and into the kind of genius that only a few people in the universe had ever held hands with. It’d start out as this fun, funny thing, then slowly start to unravel itself, the folds of my brain becoming cream-filled and ever useless until my whole being was consumed by Little Debbie. It was to be the greatest, most creative moment of my life, and maybe of anybody’s life in the history of lives. Little Debbie and I would access the dreams of kings, thinking the thoughts of kings who have left a trail of fat boy snacks throughout history.
Einstein was on Swiss Role number 28 when he came up with the theory of relativity, I remember thinking. Benjamin Franklin ate several entire boxes when he came up with the light bulb, I remember thinking. Trinidad James ate them for three straight days before he wrote the “Nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga” part of “All Gold Everything,” I remember thinking.
Alas, the experiment was a muckery. Here is how it went:
7:45pm, Swiss Roll #1: Man, I love Swiss Rolls so much. I’m not sure a better snack has ever been invented. I am SOOOO excited about swissrolling my way into becoming a genius. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier.
7:51pm, Swiss Roll #2: Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelicious. I can literally feel my brain getting stronger. This is amazing.
7:54pm, Swiss Roll #3: THIS IS THE NASTIEST FUCKING SHIT OF MY LIFE. I QUIT, I QUIT, I QUIT. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK THIS I QUIT.
That was the entire timeline.
Swiss Rolls are the greatest thing to eat until you have to eat more than two of them. Eating one or two makes you feel like you’re suckling brilliance straight from Stephen Hawkings’ brainstem. Eating more than that makes you feel like there’s a donkey in your lower intestine.
My six-year-old sons are humans with mouths and teeth and the ability to chew so I made them try it too because that’s a little thing called being a good dad.
7:59pm, Swiss Roll #1: “Thank you so much, Daddy! We love Swiss Rolls! We can eat them all day if you want us to!”
7:59:30pm, Swiss Roll #2: “This is my favorite thing to do, Daddy! I just want to eat Swiss Rolls and draw pictures of sharks! Hooray!”
8:01pm, Swiss Roll #3: “DAWG, WHAT THE FUCK. GET THIS SHIT AWAY FROM ME.”
I mean, they didn’t literally say that last one, but they basically did.
I tried to get my wife to do it too.
Me: Boo, I need you to help me with an experiment.
Wife: What’s up?
Me: I need you to eat 40 Swiss Rolls.
Wife: Fuck off.
I mean, she didn’t literally say that last one, but she basically did.
I even tried to get Boy C to do it (he’s only ten-months-old but he has two teeth so he’d have been able to knock out).
Me: Hey, Little Fat Baby, come here.
Wife: Are you about to try to give him a Swiss Roll? Is that what I’m looking at right now?
Me: No… Yes.
Wife: If you hand that baby a Swiss Roll I will stab you.
Baby: Daddy, are you really gonna make me eat a Swiss Roll? Because what the fuck, bro.
A TEN-MONTH-OLD BABY LITERALLY LOOKED IN MY EYEBALLS AND TOLD ME, “BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK, BRO.”
I’ve no doubt that the best parts of the cosmos are tucked away tight inside of Little Debbie’s snacky-cake vagina, but they are also forever protected by the most wicked, most malevolent evil that’s ever been.
I might try it again, but probably not.
Some areas of space and time and thought are simply not intended for fat little Mexicans, I suppose.