A young man leaving a nursing home gives his ancient grandmother and grandfather what might be a final hug.
"My advice, son?" says the grandfather. "Find yourself a woman like this one.'
Turning to go, tears in his eyes, the young man drops his car keys. As he picks them up, a bag of Doritos falls out of his pocket.
The grandmother and grandfather race in fast-motion for the bag of Doritos, kicking, gouging, and biting each other. The grandfather finally wins with a hard elbow to the grandmother's throat, which knocks her unconscious.
"Grandpa, what are you doing?" the young man says. "It's just a bag of Doritos."
"Just a bag of Doritos?" says the grandfather.
"You speak lies, scum," says the grandmother, regaining consciousness. Then the grandmother and grandfather nod to the Doritos bag, which rams into the young man, who falls to the floor and is kicked repeatedly by his grandparents.
"Grandma, Grandpa, please, stop!" the young man says.
Hearing herself called Grandma, the grandmother hesitates. The Doritos bag scowls at her. The grandfather kicks her in the stomach, and she falls to the floor.
"Who do you think you are?" the young man screams at the Doritos bag. "Do you believe yourself to be some sort of god? You're a bag of corn chips, with tons of salt and about nine coloring agents! That's all! That's all you are!"
The Doritos bag takes a huge sword from behind the back of its bag and decapitates the young man.
"Now what do you have to say?" says the grandmother.
"Nothing," says the young man's head.
"Do you love Doritos more than anything?" says the bag of Doritos.
The young man's head hesitates.
The Doritos bag cleaves the head in two.
The grandfather, prompted by the bag of Doritos, kicks one half of the head into the street, where it is run over by a Doritos truck and reduced to mush. On the other, unmushed, half of a head, one eyebrow goes up in sudden fear.
"Care for a Dorito?" says the grandfather.
"Yes," the remaining half a head says.
"Yes please?" says the grandfather.
"Yes please," says the remaining half a head.
"Yes please, it is sweeter to me than the most profound nectar?" says the grandfather.
"Yes please, it is sweeter to me than the most profound nectar," says the remaining half a head.
"Fat chance," says the grandfather. "You're not good enough for even a tiny fragment of a Dorito!"
Then he kicks the remaining half a head into the street, alongside the mush, and the Doritos truck backs up over the second half of head, reducing it to a second pile of mush.
"Do you still believe that Doritos is merely a bag of corn chips, with a ton of salt and about nine coloring agents?" the grandfather screams at the two piles of mush.
The piles of mush are too frightened to answer.
The bag of Doritos and the grandfather and the grandmother walk off, stepping comically over the two mushes with exaggeratedly high steps, as if revulsed.
They are escaping from the old folks' home, going to live in the land of Doritos, which is not in Mexico, exactly, but is very much like Mexico.