Yesterday, while lounging (everything from noon on --at the church and all over the Metroplex, I think -- was cancelled due to the rain/ice situation in DFW), I mosied past our kitchen counter where we keep a candy tray, occasionally stocked. It just so happened that we had a few choice chocolates remaining in the tray, left from Christmas. These chocolates were all of the Hershey variety, probably six or so from a standard "miniatures" pack, featuring Krackle, the Special Dark, the Original, and the epynomous Mr. Goodbar. In our home, perhaps its his requirement for formality, but Mr. Goodbar seems to be the black jellybean of the chocolate tray. So, in my benevolence, I plucked two into my hand and sauntered over to the computer to check departure times for Kelli's flight.
I opened one and popped it into my mouth without a thought, disposing of it mindlessly while I logged on.
A little dry, perhaps a sign of the cold, or just that they are getting just old enough to be thrown away.
Then I opened the second one, and -- Thank the good Lord for little decisions that mean a lot -- actually looked at the choco-product I was about to consume.
As though I just just performed a paper wrapper Casaerian, I pulled back the twin folds of the Mr. Goodbar mini-sheath to be happily greeted by a writhing, wiggling, surprised-by-the-daylight maggot.
Yes. That is no misprint.
I screamed like a teenage girl and threw the chocolate morsel across the room. Let's just say it was not exactly my most masculine moment ever.
Simultaneously, Kelli called and in panting breath, I dramatically retold the events.
Our conversation quickly ended as she told me she was delayed another hour, and I steeled my nerve and hunted for my far-flung maggoty Goodbar. Thankfully, the bar was still in the wrapper, and the critter was still happily noshing on the partially-consumed peanut smack-dab in the middle of the dried and falling apart chocolate rectangle. As my parting gift to the unexpected guest, I gave him an overnight stay in the trashcan, so it could experience first-hand the rare North Texas freezing drizzle.
This, as before, is not a paid commercial endorsement.
And, no hyperbole, I have thrice shuddered convulsively whilst recounting this traumatic event for you here.
January 15, 2007 10:36 AMWell, Bryan, what about the one you ate? I'm sure you thought about that.
Posted by: Randy at January 15, 2007 11:24 AMFollowed you over from FP and found this particularly funny and so very close to home. Except my experience (many years ago) was with a Payday - when they were wrapped in a different wrapper. I spent my hard earned allowance and looked forward to my reward. I took a big bite and looking down into the rest of the bar, saw that it was infested. I'm not sure I ever fully recovered. I still shutter at the thought.
Posted by: Just Beachy at January 16, 2007 3:50 PMThat's why you need to pop those things in your mouth WHOLE - this way you don't KNOW that you've just bitten into a maggoty Goodbar.
GROSS.
Posted by: Jaynee at January 17, 2007 5:30 PM