The Art and Strategy of Sharing French Fries

I was recently eating at In-N-Out (excellent munchables) and was forced (due to budget constraints) to share an order of french fries with a cunning friend. It was then that I became concious of the Art and Strategy of Sharing French Fries (or Freedom Fries, whichever you prefer.)

Human beings are extremely competetive and whether we realize it or not, we compete over everything.

Subconciously, we look at that greasy cardstock carton of fries and see it as a battlefield. We see that there's a good half of the french fries and that there's a bad half. The goal is to screw your opponent out of the good ones.

Every time we go to grab a sliver of starch heaven, we're plotting a course away from the inferior fries. You know the ones I mean: the ones that are small and too hard to bite through, the ones that are too soggy, the ones that are devoid of ketchup, and the ones that by some freak of nature refused to cook when immersed in a boiling vat of vegetable oil and liquified lard.

We are constantly searching for the Holy Grail french fries. The ones that are crispy on the outside, warm and mushy on the inside, and lathered in ketchup more precious than gold.
It doesn't matter how much you care for the person your sharing with. As soon as you sit across from each other in the molded plastic booth at your favorite burger joint, with the tempting french fries between you, the gloves are off. Your primative caveman hunting instincts take over.

If you don't scarf down every one of the perfect morsels, leaving your buddy with the scraps, your stomach thinks it will die. But remember, the enemy is thinking the same thing. That's when perfectly innocent family dinners at McDonalds become savage foodfights with the fate of the world hanging in the balance.

The next time you share an order of french fries with someone, bear this in mind. And let the games begin...

That's the way I see the world. You've been a wonderful audience. I'll be here all week!