Imagine being a mallow at the top of the bag. You see the hands reaching in, grabbing your friends, your family, stabbing a fat stick straight through their anus and out the top of their head, only to be scorched in burning flame a moment later by an amateur who has no fucking clue how to properly roast one of these sumbitches. You got to turn it slow. Torturing mallows is a dark art that requires a certain degree of satisfaction in the process. Some people get impatient. Sure, the flame is fun, seeing them scorched like that. But I prefer to hear the mallow screaming out their last breath slowly as I rotate it patiently one quarter turn at a time, roughly 4 inches above a flame or 6 above hot coals. Don’t get me wrong, the scorch v. slow roast doesn’t really make a difference for the mallow being burned; they’re already gone from the stick. It’s more about striking fear into those fuckers at the top of the bag.