About a month ago when I was transferring some freshly purchased Hot Pockets into my fridge's exceptionally small freezer, I encountered an unpleasant but intriguing surprise. One of my pepperoni pizza Hot Pockets was WITHOUT A CRISPING SLEEVE!
As any fellow HP conisseur knows, the Crisping Sleeve is essential to a perfectly heated Hot Pocket. My friend Morgan and I had often pondered as to what the result would be if a Hot Pocket was prepared without it's sleeve, but, considering the risk (a ruined Hot Pocket) greater than the reward (of knowledge), we never ventured to find out.
I was in quite a conundrum. Should I save a Sleeve from a different Hot Pocket, so when the time comes, it has a snug little sort of sleeping bag, if you will, to be prepared in? Or should I let nature take its course and heat it without a Sleeve, satisfying the Hot Pocket curiosity that had nearly driven me mad in the past? Well, I left this illegimate Hot Pocket until last, and if you know me, you know I have the foresight of a goldfish, and of course I forgot to save a Crisping Sleeve.
So, Mr. Hot Pocket ventured into the scary microwave world without ever knowing a Hot Pocket's only comfort, as I like to affectionately call it, its Sleevie. I anxiously waited in front of the microwave, body soaking up waves that will probably lead to cancer, for 2 minutes. When I took it out, it had the unattractive appearance and feel of an accountant at the beach. Doughy and pale.
Oh crispy goodness, where are you? Not in this Hot Pocket.
It was edible, but not quite up to par. So yes, I should probably get a Nobel Prize for my work, but I'm still going to Hell for ruining that Hot Pocket, who with a little help could have had so much potential