Cruz loved bean dip. Bean dip and fritos. He usually bought one container of bean dip and ate it with disciplined slowness. He’d once rushed through the bean dip and, after a light lunch, filled his plate with corn chips and encountered just two substantial remaining scoops. He’d had to put most of the chips back. The chips made depressing clatter sounds as they fell back into the bag.
Cruz decided one day to purchase two containers of bean dip. This, he figured, would free him up to eat better helpings of bean dip on his chips on a more regular basis and without having to worry about running out at an inappropriate time.
“I bought two cans of bean dip this time,” he told his girl friend, Maricela. “This way I don’t have to worry about running out at a time when I really want it.”
“Okay,” Maricela said, “but you may find that this is a good way to generate complication in the ongoing story of your life, Cruz, which some writer may express in small chunks.”
“Nonsense,” Cruz said. “This’ll solve all my problems, at least in regards to bean dip.”
Cruz opened the first can of bean dip and loaded up his corn chips with big tasty helpings. He didn’t even worry about keeping the inside walls of the can clean, curling the smooth paste onto the chip by curving it against the edge. It pleased him that he could eat half the can and not have to worry about running out.
“This is heaven,” Cruz said. “Why didn’t I think of this before.”
Marcela just shrugged and dipped her chip into the bean dip.
“Have more,” Cruz offered. “Remember there’s another can.”
But when Cruz opened the other can after a ham sandwich, he found that the original problem appeared again, like the repetition of shapes in two facing mirrors.
“This is amazing,” Cruz told Marcela. “You were right. This is indeed a complicating element in Cruz’ story, albeit trivial, but perhaps relevant to other areas of life which may bear further investigation. We killed that first can of bean dip as if it had been free. But now that I have the second can opened, it’s just like having purchased one can in the first place. I’m just going to run out again if I don’t ration each helping.”
“That’s what I tried to tell you before,” Marcela said, “but you wouldn’t listen.”
“That’s another issue altogether,” Cruz said. “Regardless, I must pursue this phenomenon. Next time I’m at the store, I’ll purchase three cans of bean dip, perhaps four. This should solve all my problems.”
“At least as they regard bean dip,” Maricela said.
“Of course. This has nothing to do my other problems.”
Marcela said, “But you already know what’s going to happen, Cruz. Why make yourself crazy? Why make me crazy?”
“Making myself or you crazy is another issue altogether,” Cruz told Maricela. “Yet another conflict in the story of Cruz’s life.”
“And mine,” Maricela said.
