Crunchy Mothman

It’s a mystery.

Yesterday, as I do from time to time, I stopped in at Coonskin Crossing, the country gas station and convenience store in Amesville. Looking around and as always wondering what it was about a Chinese virus that doubled the price of potato chips, I saw something I didn’t expect.

The shiny silver bag proclaimed that it contained “Mothman” flavored potato chips.”

It was a product of the Mister Bee company of nearby Parkersburg, West Virginia, which used to say it was the only West Virginia potato chip company, as no doubt some company out there claims to be the only Idaho moonshine company. I do not see Mister Bee’s claim to exclusivity anymore, so maybe someone else in the state is frying thinly sliced potatoes nowadays. Perhaps even without any reference to insects.

The eight-ounce bag was a shade under $5, which is way too much to pay for potato chips, but I got it anyway, because I live here. This spot on the globe is the center of the allegedly terrifying tale of the Mothman. Which I’ll get to in a minute. The Mister Bee company version is this: “The story begins one fateful evening when Mister Bee while checking on his cherished potato crop, comes face to face with the legendary Mothman. In a brave attempt to capture the cryptid, Mister Bee took a blow to his head, which knocked him out and changed him forever.

“When he regained consciousness, Mister Bee was filled with vivid visions of a mysterious spice blend inspired by his deep affection for West Virginia. After months of experimenting in his Parkerburg [sic] snack kitchen, his vision became a reality. Now it's time to unveil Mister Bee’s most buzzworthy seasoning yet!”

Unless you saw the awful movie somewhat based on it (hey, maybe Richard Gere and Laura Linney needed the money, okay?) or the apparently even worse TV movie, you might never have heard of the Mothman story until now. Nor probably, was your life lessened by your ignorance of it. But it is fondly remembered in these parts, and there are probably people who even now won’t go outside at night because of it.

Here’s the tale: On the night of November 15, 1966, two couples were out by an abandoned former military munitions plant near Point Pleasant, West Virginia for, um, reasons, when they saw a large, winged creature with glowing red eyes. They drove away, but it flew behind them, screeching. It stopped following them at the city limits. One of them demonstrated a total absence of artistic skill by drawing a picture of the thing for the police. It is reproduced here. You be the judge.

It was apparently a slow news week, because wire services and others picked up on the story. Experts said it was probably a sandhill crane far from its usual range. Ah, but it doesn’t stop there.

Just as after a UFO report it seems as if everyone now sees UFOs, everyone in the area began to see the creature. As with the bigfoot thing out west and elsewhere, it was never seen by anyone in possession of and competent to use a camera.

This went on for a month. Anything bad or strange that happened was blamed on the Mothman. When his television’s sound malfunctioned and his dog ran away, a local contractor took it as proof of the Mothman’s mischief. And so on.

It has been my pleasure, amusement, and privilege to have covered a Mothman-related thing or two. One, at the link, featured Jeff Wamsley, a highschool teacher and curator of the “Mothman Museum.” No, really.

“There are more than 100 sightings that we know of,” Wamsley said. “A lot of people didn’t say anything, either because they didn’t want to be called crazy or, as some have told me, because the ‘men in black’ told them not to.” Sure, why not. They didn’t want to be slapped as if they were Chris Rock.

Actually, it was the “Mothman” mystery that gave the world the phrase, “Men in Black,” and the associated comic books and movies. It was coined by John Keel, an unusual writer and UFO conspiracy theorist from New York who came to the area to investigate. He would go on to write “The Mothman Prophecies,” which book loosely led to the 2002 Richard Gere movie.

Prophecies? About that.

A year and a month after the sighting at the old munitions dump, the bridge across the Ohio River from Point Pleasant to Gallipolis, Ohio, known as the Silver Bridge, collapsed. Forty-six people were killed. Keel latched onto the notion that the Mothman had come to warn people of the coming bridge failure. If so, the warning was ineffective, possibly because the creature never made any known attempt to communicate with anyone, nor did it hang out at the bridge. Trifles of a skeptic, I know.

Point Pleasant has had a high old time for itself in the nearly six decades since the Mothman took its apparently temporary lodgings there. There is a big metal Mothman statue downtown, next to the museum. There is an annual Mothman Festival, which strikes me as unusual for a disaster site, but whatever. And, as noted, anything mysterious there — and the bar is low — was and is pinned on the Mothman.

Now we must wonder if its communications skills have improved and it can impart a recipe for potato chips.

When I got home with my bag of Mothman Flavored potato chips, at first I wondered what to do with them. Think about it: if the bag is opened, it will lose its collector value, right? I still have a sealed case of “Y2K Emergency Candles” that I bought at the grocery store at deep discount after Y2K had come and gone, emergency-free. They were much cheaper than candles not marked for the occasion, though I suppose they are just as effective as candles. We must be circumspect in our handling of rare collectors items, which they are — I’ve never found a collector of Y2K candles, and I’ve looked, so such a person must be rare indeed.

The Mister Bee website goes on to describe the recipe the Mothman sent along: “This unique blend features sweet, smoky, citrusy, and zesty flavors, all wrapped in a delicious crunch that will tantalize your tastebuds and invite you to savor the legend of Mothman.” I read this and I could not resist.

I mean, c’mon. An insectish-themed potato chip, produced by an insect-themed company, that promises to treat me to the flavor of a legend? I was going to pass this up in hope of future riches when I finally find someone whose tastes run to commemorative candles and souvenir salty snacks?

I am a weak, impulsive man. I ate them.

It is my unpleasant habit of making fun when some person or company uses poor or misleading punctuation, but the Mister Bee company saved me from disappointment, and possibly revulsion, by correctly calling the product “Mothman Flavored” potato chips instead of “Mothman-flavored” potato chips. No compound modifier there. Had they been less literate, I could be here asking, “How do they know?” if I had survived the experience.

They also describe the Mothman flavor as a “mysterious spice blend,” but this isn’t entirely true. In the fine print, as required by federal law, anyone brave enough to explore the hidden depths can come away, sadder but wiser, knowing that the mystery spices are: “Salt, sugar, red pepper, powdered tomatoes, monosodium glutamate, garlic, onion, yeast extract, spices [The things listed aren’t spices? Is this the promised mystery?], pepper extracts, citric acid, and caramel dye.” (According to the FDA, ingredients must be stated in order of where they stand in proportion to the other ingredients, so whatever the unnamed spices are, they’re pretty far down the list so there’s not much of them.) No mystery.

In any case, they’re barbecue-flavored potato chips. I will go so far as to say they are very good barbecue-flavored potato chips. The smoky flavor is stronger than one usually encounters and they were not kidding when they put red pepper third on the list of flavorings. I would not describe them as “zesty,” but that’s because I would not describe anything as zesty. The flavor does not, however, immediately suggest a gigantic half-human, half-insect. Probably just as well. (I bet they taste better than scientist-created “Sandhill Crane” potato chips would, though.)

I’ll probably draw the line, though, if I happen upon Mothman jerky. That would be mysterious.