Yo, Self: Twizzlers are the steamed beets of junk food. Nobody likes them. Never buy them again.
Yesterday in Price Chopper i saw a big display of bags of “fun-size” versions of various candies. It had been years since i’d eaten a Twizzler and, having repressed in my memory their rubbery, gummy texture and weird flavor and how they stick in your teeth, i bought a big bag of little bags of them, along with a big bag of little bags of Milky Ways and a big bag of little, tiny bags of M&M’s. Today around 5 p.m. i dumped all the little bags into my big wooden salad bowl and put it on the table on my enclosed porch. Then i turned on the porch light and tied two orange balloons on the balusters at the bottom of the steps (our neighborhood-association-agreed-upon signal that it’s OK to trick-or-treat at this house), and figured i was good.
i was bad!! From the first group of kids to the last — from the toddlers tripping over their own umbilical cords (or were those the tails of their devil-costumes?) whose moms i was sure would have to puree the candy for them, to the 14-year-old jerkoffs who grabbed great handfuls of crap before leaping gleefully away, not a soul left my house without thoughtfully taking the time to articulate their contempt and revulsion over my twisted treats.
And when the dreaded moment arrived when i was out of everything except Twizzlers — not an hour after the first group had left — one final, solitary Satan looked down into my pathetic bowl and burst out with a wail that might have been heard on the other side of the Styx.
By today’s standards, Twizzlers are a type of health food. People figure, “Hey, they’re low-calorie red things! Like apples! Like tomatoes! Like … like pomegranates, or something! Run!” (And that’s just the grownups. I swear to G-d, tomorrow around dinner time, there’ll be parents all over Newburgh going, “Now, if you kids don’t finish your Twizzlers, you’re not getting any M&Ms for dessert.”)
Yo, Abrams: Put this in the tickler file for October 2013. Don’t forget!