Tuesday, February 22, 2011

*Holiday Candy Fat Ass*

Shopping at my local drug store I was molested by the huge displays of Easter candy staring at me from isle 4. Family memories floated through my head as I stacked Easter candy into my shopping basket.

   The best part about the holidays to my family was the sugar. My mom might let the electric bill go, but she would be damned if she didn’t pick up ten boxes of Marshmallow Peeps.

   Marshmallow Peeps, their little distant eyes looking at you scared, almost like they know you're going to shove them in your mouth. The colored sugar would turn your tongue yellow, pink and aqua. It’s no wonder that by 9-years-old I was shopping in the husky boys section at J.C Penny.

   Of course my mom and dad had not a tooth in their mouth, but that never stopped them from gumming down a frozen solid chocolate Easter bunny named Wilbur (chocolate bunnies always have nerdy names; where’s Leonard, Tyrone or Mykel bunny?)

   How can we forget chocolate Santa Claus or as my mom called him Black Santa Claus.

   Let’s mutilate Santa Claus kids! Merry Christmas and a waist size expanding New Year.

   Who ever thought it was a neat idea for children to decapitate chocolate people? Totally racist; it’s kind of sick when you think about it; though I guess if you could buy little chocolate people you hate- that would be okay; little chocolate terrorist, yum; just doing my part to fight terrorism. They melt in your mouth, not blow up in your hands.

   How great is that? Or imagine twenty or twenty-two pieces of your ugly ass boss, all ready to be torn limb by limb. Tasty, God bless!

   You could even chew on them in your office, car, or my favorite on the treadmill. How much fun would that be? Every time your boss would piss you off you could throw chocolate boss Mini Me's in your mouth as you typed away that frown, and that deadline. You’re sure to be smiling from ear-to-ear as his head is ripped from his brown bloated body

   Just be careful you don’t have his head in your mouth when you say, “Yes, sir I’ll get right on it.”

*excert from There's A Bastard Born Every Minute by Hudson Taylor