All that remains of WCK's Halloween candy is what I consider the cruddy stuff: Tootsie Rolls (especially the fruit-flavored Tootsie Rolls -- blech!), Smarties, Dum Dums, Laffy Taffy. In other words, they're all my least-favorite kinds of candy, yet I keep on eating them because a) they're kinds of candy and b) they're in my house.
I finished off the last Laffy Taffy just now, and I had a few questions. If you're not familiar with Laffy Taffy, it's fruit-flavored taffy that comes in a wrapper that has jokes printed on it. Supposedly, the jokes are submitted by people across the country, but I did an Internet search and can't seem to find a way to submit the jokes. This is surprising, because I thought for sure I'd find a list of guidelines for Laffy Taffy joke writers:
Laffy Taffy is currently accepting jokes for our 2011 candy wrappers. Please follow these guidelines when submitting jokes:
1) Joke must be lame.
2) If joke is not lame, it must make no sense whatsoever.
The Laffy Taffy corporation cannot accept any jokes that do not meet these guidelines. If your joke actually makes people laugh, it will be rejected. We maintain our strong commitment to making humor-loving people everywhere crumple up our wrappers in disgust. Keep this in mind: Would your joke make the wrapper-reader roll her eyes and exclaim that her five-year-old could come up with better material? If so, we want your joke.
Seriously, here was one of the jokes on the candy I ate this morning, submitted by Terri T. of St. Charles, Mo.: "Why do some people never go bald? They have a re-seeding hairline!"
I mean, I still ate the taffy, but I wasn't very laffy about it.
My point, and I do have one, is that there are no pieces of good chocolate candy left in the bucket, except one: a full-size Three Musketeers bar.
What the heck? Our neighborhood seems like a fairly sensible place. I can't believe someone was giving away full-size candy bars. I don't know who it was. You hear stories about this kind of thing happening, but in my 35 years, I'd never seen it actually happen. Growing up, I'd always hear stories about how so-and-so's cousin's sister's friend was able to go trick-or-treating in the Millionaire Neighborhood in Omaha, where the heir to the Godfather's Pizza fortune was giving away full-size candy bars as well as cans of pop with dollar bills wrapped around them.
Could you imagine having an entire can of pop all to yourself? Plus, you'd get an entire dollar, which meant that you could go out and buy two more cans of pop! Luxury! When my sister and I were allowed pop, we always had to split one, although I would usually add extra ice to her cup to make it look like she got more.
Unfortunately, my unreasonable parents would never agree to drive me over to Omaha's Millionaire Neighborhood on Halloween night, which meant we were stuck with the sensible people in our own neighborhood who liked to give out those peanut butter chewy things in the orange and black wrappers. How I survived this difficult childhood, I do not know.
But here we are today, with a full-size Three Musketeers casually sitting in the Halloween bucket, like this kind of thing happens every day. WCK, for some odd reason, doesn't seem to have much interest in it. Maybe she doesn't realize how unusual it is. I'm not sure what to do with it. I'm not going to feed my five-year-old a gigantic candy bar, and while I could easily consume three mini-size Three Musketeers at one sitting, eating one giant one myself just seems wrong.
I think I'll keep it around for a while, just so I can stare and marvel at it. And I'm not sure how to end this post, so I think I'll close with another Laffy Taffy joke:
What kind of key doesn't open a lock? A monkey!
Sigh.
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