Marty rushes down the aisle of a supermarket, his eyes frantically searching the shelves. Jeff hurries after him pushing a cart already full of items. With a squeal of delight, he stops suddenly in front of a section.
Marty– Sweet fancy pants, it’s bean city! Look at all these beauties!
Jeff (panting)- Great, which ones do you need?
Marty– Well I was just going to get some baked beans, but baby (he grabs Jeff’s shoulders and gets his face right up in there) we’ve got options.
Jeff– Don’t you just need the baked ones?
Marty– This is chili! It’s not a static food, it’s got levels, rhythm. Depending on where you want to go, you can approach it a number of ways.
Jeff– Alright, pick one. I wanna get back to the register before that cashier goes on break or something, she was eyeballing me like I was on deep clearance.
Marty– Okay, I got ground beef, so that rules out some of the red beans. You’d think red meat and red beans, right? But no, the reds can’t coexist, it’s total chaos. Don’t get me wrong, there was a time but…(shivers) it’s a shame they can’t put it behind them.
Jeff (checking his breath)- Thrilling.
Marty rifles through the cans, reading labels and shaking them next to his ear.
Marty– Butter beans are supple and understated, but they fall off late. Garbanzo are too arrogant, always wanting to be on the front line of the flavor.
Jeff– Maybe I should do some push ups real quick.
Jeff pops down for a couple quick reps. He stops after two shaky ones and just stretches.
Marty– Feeling seaworthy? We could grab some Navy Beans, cast our sails for the open water. The spray of spicy meat juice hitting our faces off the port bow. Navy Beans are great for early taste aggression.
Jeff (snapping his fingers)- There’s a poop deck joke there somewhere. (Sigh) Normally I’d be all over that but the scan-gun toting vixen up there is clouding my wits.
Marty stops suddenly, pauses, and then carefully takes one can off the shelf.
Marty– Ah yes, the Pinto bean. The delicate young mare, ready to be saddled and carry us away to the open plains of flavor with a rollicking gallop. Wherever we may roam, she is there for us, comforting, controlling, holding off all other flavors until the time is right.
He holds the Pinto beans to his chest, eyes closed. Jeff checks the price tag.
Jeff– These are triple the baked beans.
Marty presses a finger to Jeff’s lips.
Marty– Not another word, I have a coupon. (Tossing the can in the cart) Come. To the cheeses!
Jeff (Looking toward the front of the store) Wait for me.
There will be more…