Whenever I get a packet of 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 theatre 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., along with a 3x5 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 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.