Dear Jack and Hannah,
How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop? I know this is a really dumb question, but I am too easily distracted to attempt to solve this problem by myself, and MythBusters wasn't answering my calls. Sincerely, Sweet−Toothed in South
To tackle this epic question, which has confuzzled generations upon generations of lollipop connoisseurs, we decided to bring one of our best friends down to our local confectionary emporium and allow her to sample one of said tootsie pops. We cheered her on with "keep going!"s and "don't stop!"s. She quickly grew tired of our constant morale−boosting quips and prodding, not to mention the counting, but we urged her to continue on her mission until she reached the center.
After her angry reaction, we responded by ensuring her that she could have it her way; whatever, we didn't care. If she wanted to have a push pop instead, or maybe back up and reconsider her options, she totally could. She quit whining and kept going. It was getting a little warm in the store so we decided to go up to the second level, which we assumed would have better air conditioning.
Unfortunately for us, there was a dance party in full swing up there, which was even hotter than the ground floor. Man! Could've boiled a cup of tea in there. The dancers were getting a little rowdy, or — dare we say — sexual, but, hey, it happens to the best of us. Well, our friend wasn't quite as open−minded and progressive as we were and the heat was starting to dehydrate her, so we decided to cut out. As a wise man once said, there's no point in having a dehydrated tootsie−pop licker.
It was a glorious day, so the two of us wanted to continue at the beach or the park, but our friend was getting tired, what with all that licking, and opted for her hotel. We had a bit of a walk ahead of us, but there was plenty of saccharine goodness to last our friend the whole way there. She was going like a champ, so Jack felt compelled to throw in some puerile phallic humor. We believe the phrases "magic stick" and "love doctor" were invoked.
Needless to say, she was not "sprung." In fact, she was becoming a little annoyed with us. Why don't we take over, she suggested, if it's such a joking matter. She even sarcastically offered a tutorial. Her sass prompted a minor snafu. Both of us happened to be seasoned lollipop lickers. We had only employed her for the sake of fair and honest journalism. It went down, right there in the street. The three of us ended up rolling around on the ground, throwing punches and calling names, only breaking periodically for licks. Fistfuls of hair were displaced. Spectators were bouncing up and down in excitement, but we knew we were being juvenile and had to put an end to it. We settled the issue by promising our friend the tootsie pop stick when she was through. That's the kind of thing you put in a frame. It is, after all, what allows all the tootsie−pop−goodness to end up in your mouth and not in your hands.
Unfortunately, amid all the commotion, our dear friend had lost count. We threw down another 50 cents and started again from the top. It took her 437 licks.
We snagged a couple celebratory ‘pops for the road. They sure hit the spot.
Whoa.
--
Jack Webster and Hannah Furgang are
both freshmen who have not yet declared
a major. Jack can be reached at John.
Webster@tufts.edu and Hannah can be
reached at Hannah.Furgang@tufts.edu.
