The best kind of candy is the kind you didn’t know you had.
I’m not talking about specific types of candy. I mean, that’s not even a contest.
Everyone knows that the best candy is Reese’s peanut-butter cups in whichever configuration is on sale at the moment. Be it eggs, trees, jack-o-lanterns or just plain cups, Reese’s peanut butter candies are the absolute best.
Hands down. End of competition. Drops the mic and walks away.
However. . .
That being said, I do believe that there is only one way that Reese’s could be better. It’s the same way that every other candy also can become better.*
And that’s if you find it even though you thought you were out.
Here it is, a week past the last candy-giving holiday, one in which the giving of Reese’s peanut butter eggs is almost considered mandatory, and I thought I’d long finished the candy I purchased to give away to the various members of Casa de Dude, be they on the mailing list or be they getting it by hand.
The odds of any sort of candy lasting a week in this house are slim and none and slim just left the building. Mostly to go meet with his nickname support group. He’s a big guy, Slim.
Anywho. . .
In Casa de Dude, candy gets eaten. Even when my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Avoiding Carbs Like A Vampire Avoids Roasted Garlic Steaks**, has been known to chow down on candy that’s been forced into her mouth and made to swallow. Or that has been left out. Or that has been hidden away in a not-very-good hiding place, like, say, behind the fridge, under a decoy pile of trash.
We like our candy, is what I’m saying.
Hyper Lad especially. Which, come to think of it, might have something to do with his nickname.
In the normal course of events, candy goes quickly in this house. Which I thought was what had happened to the three Reese’s peanut butter eggs that I found yesterday. I immediately checked to make sure they were left over from a week ago, not a year and a week ago. Not that it would have stopped me from eating them, but I at least felt slightly more virtuous this way.
There were three. By coincidence, there are three members of the family still living inside the friendly confines of Casa de Dude at the moment. What luck! What fortune!
What are you, nuts? Of course I didn’t tell them about my find. I mean, I might have. If the candy had lasted longer than the 2.4377281374 minutes it took me to rip them from their hiding place, unwrap them and shove them all into my mouth.
Nom. Nom. Nom.
And they were delicious. So delicious, in fact, that the wonderful taste easily overpowered the tiny, shrieking nubbin of guilt that got swallowed along with the found candy.
mmmmmmmmm caaaaaaannnnddyyyyy mmmmmmm
Footnotes & Errata
* With the exception of Twizzlers or Red Vines. There is nothing that can make those two appalling misnomers for candy taste better than the sludge from which they’re made. ick
* See what I did there? It is a pune, or play on words.