The Trials and Tragedies of a French Fry

Ah, to be a french fry, truly a noble life.
Honourable is the french fry that is privileged to go to a fast food restaurant.
To be sliced from the potato and stuffed into a bag with many others like me.
Then to be relegated to a freezer where I am nearly frozen to death,
spending seemingly never-ending time in a thoroughly frozen solid state.
After surviving hypothermia and severe frost bite I am warmed,
by being tossed into a vat of boiling hot oil.
Drowning while being scalded at the same time,
only to be yanked out of the reaper's grasp once again,
to be seasoned with salt.
After being placed in a carton with several others like me I am given to a new owner.
Hoping they shall be my salvation from this barbaric treatment,
I am disappointed to find myself being held gently in their grasp,
then having my face dunked in a sea of ketchup.
Once again when it seems I shall go to a liquid grave,
I am pulled to salvation yet again,
only to have my head bitten off and eaten.
The rest of my body soon follows this demonic ritual.
On second thought, I'll stick with being a human.
I never realized what tortured and barbaric lives french fries live.