As I sit here on top of a Hostess truck, it occurred to me. This truck is empty. Maybe it's getting more Twinkies. I wouldn't know. It drove on and on. At last, a warehouse, Hostess warehouse.

Will I able to see the golden logs of cream? What does it tastes like? My mouth gapes open. I can imagine the sweet taste. And then. . .

No. Oh no. Snowballs, SNOWBALLS! Where's the blasted Twinkies? I quote the line from Zombieland. And I mourn. Another day without Twinkies.