Lineless cacodemon

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to   continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this   end, I hold M&M duels. Taking two candies between my thumb and   forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them   cracks and splinters. That is the “loser,” and I eat the inferior one   immediately. The winner gets to go another round. I have found that, in   general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue  ones  are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue  M&Ms as  a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of  competition that  is the modern candy and snack-food world. Occasionally  I will get a  mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or  flatter than the  rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness,  but on very rare  occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this  way, the species  continues to adapt to its environment. When I reach  the end of the pack,  I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the  herd. Since it would  make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it  neatly in an envelope  and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars,  Inc., Hackettstown, NJ  17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3×5 card  reading, “Please use this  M&M for breeding purposes.” This week  they wrote back to thank me,  and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound  bag of plain M&Ms. I  consider this “grant money.” I have set aside  the weekend for a grand  tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will  discover the True  Champion. There can be only one.