Even the wrapper they came in was
unappealing. Orange and yellow and black.
Candy kisses. Who made them? Where
did they come from? No kid on the planet liked them.
When we hauled home our sacks of
goodies at the end of Halloween night and dumped them out on the floor to see
just what we’d gotten, we’d inevitably be saddened to find that a disappointingly large
percentage of our take consisted of these hard, seemingly inedible, joyless
“kisses.” But we didn’t throw them out. Our moms wouldn’t let us. That would be
a waste. And technically they were candy,
after all. We didn’t want to part with them, either, because of that fact. They
had the virtue of at least making your mound of sugary loot look bigger. They bulked out the haul.
But inevitably, over the next few
days, as we gobbled up all the other candy we’d collected, the dreaded Wrapper of Sadness began to predominate in the pile, and it got harder
to avoid the realization that soon we would consume all the good stuff and then
there would only be those things left, and then what? Like survivors in a
lifeboat who’ve run out of food, we were now forced to contemplate the dreadful
thought of eating what decency and rightness told us should never be eaten.
But we ate them. When we were
younger and didn’t believe our older siblings who told us that they were gross
and we’d be sorry, we ate them. First we had to get the wrapper off, and that
was part of what made the candy kiss an instrument of deceit and misery, too, because half
the time the wrapper was indelibly stuck in the candy and wouldn’t come off, or
would only half come off. The rule was you didn’t have to eat those ones. You
could throw the half-wrapped ones out because you’d given it your best shot,
you’d tried to eat the thing and it had resisted.
But if you did manage to get the
wrapper off in one piece, you felt like a kid who opens a present at Christmas
to find socks and underwear inside. Because the candy kiss now had to be eaten,
but it could not be eaten. It looked like candy but it was made of plastic
cement.
We created our own urban legend around
the candy kiss. It was said that if you actually ate one, it would remain in
your stomach forever, and other bits of food would get stuck to it, until it
made a huge ball that would block your intestines up and kill you. Truly the
kiss of death.
2 comments:
Ha! Hilarious--Kiss of death is a great name for those candies!
Glad you enjoyed it.
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