[MODERATED] [CRITERIA: solve the puzzle] Tots, tots, tots, tots, is that all kids care about these days? The hulking, furry arms of a lunchlady of Sasquatch heritage slams the freezer door open with too much force. A clipboard hanging on the door swings hard from side to side then clatters to the floor, and Lunchlady Bigfoot says something nasty in her native language as she yanks a cart in after her. The U-cart, piled high with cardboard boxes, rolls to a stop on the clipboard.
"Trrrrrry to diverrrrrrsify theirrrrr palates," Lunchlady Bigfoot growls, snatching a freezer-burned box of nuggets from the cart and chucking it straight at the shelf. The seams buckle as it hits the wall. "They just want mooorrrre taterrrrrs." She grabs another box and throws it into place, then another, and another. The first crumples under the impact, spilling plastic bags of nuggets all over the floor, but the lunchsquatch doesn't seem to notice.
"If I everrrrr see a box of TOTS again, I'll—" Lunchlady Bigfoot halts midsentence, cardboard container of potato wedges in one hand, wound up and ready to drive that box on home. She doesn't seem to notice the stack of boxes teetering precariously on the shelf just above her head.
MEMORY: Tots
[CRITERIA: solve the puzzle]
Tots, tots, tots, tots, is that all kids care about these days? The hulking, furry arms of a lunchlady of Sasquatch heritage slams the freezer door open with too much force. A clipboard hanging on the door swings hard from side to side then clatters to the floor, and Lunchlady Bigfoot says something nasty in her native language as she yanks a cart in after her. The U-cart, piled high with cardboard boxes, rolls to a stop on the clipboard.
"Trrrrrry to diverrrrrrsify theirrrrr palates," Lunchlady Bigfoot growls, snatching a freezer-burned box of nuggets from the cart and chucking it straight at the shelf. The seams buckle as it hits the wall. "They just want mooorrrre taterrrrrs." She grabs another box and throws it into place, then another, and another. The first crumples under the impact, spilling plastic bags of nuggets all over the floor, but the lunchsquatch doesn't seem to notice.
"If I everrrrr see a box of TOTS again, I'll—" Lunchlady Bigfoot halts midsentence, cardboard container of potato wedges in one hand, wound up and ready to drive that box on home. She doesn't seem to notice the stack of boxes teetering precariously on the shelf just above her head.