Where are the ompaloompas?

My room mate got home today from Ghana West Africa, she's been away for the past month on a mission trip with NYFC, and she's bursting with stories. I'm glad to have her back. As nice as it was to have the house to myself, It was really lonely without her here.
She's brought back yards and yards of fabric. I'm quite envious. And it's added to that stirring that I've had in my heart over the past month... That "itchy feet" feeling... No, not athletes foot... That need to be out there... Somewhere... Experiencing life and other's lives.
I requested that roomie bring back a container of paprika pringles with her from the tasty continent. Unfortunately for me, there were none to be found... Fortunately for me, she went to London for a short stay on her way home.
In their stead, came several bags of "differently abled" potato chips (crisps) tonight I opened one and was taken aback ... The bag of chips looked innocent enough. The flavour was one of an innocent looking variety. We have chips claiming far grander flavours than that boasted by the little bag in my hand. I glanced around for the oompaloompas that surely must have accompanied the snack.
Remember that part in the book where that one rotten little girl (the gum chewing one) snags the stick of gum and glows on and on about it's amazing flavour, "the taste of real gravy... REAL gravy!" Running down her gullet?
Well. These chips must have been made by the same people...


And I quote "BUT! It tastes like chicken with lemon and thyme!... LIKE CHICKEN... With lemon and thyme!"