It's 7:00 in the morning. There's a Milk Dud talking to me.

Last night, being Halloween and all, was a big ol’ Candy Buffet. Fun Size candy bars out the wazoo. With the candy Uncle Skippy brought and what the boys collected, we had a net gain of empty callories. Sort of a warm-up stretch for the tummy with The Holidays coming up.

I learned a few things. More “rediscovered facts” than learned. There is a finite number of Fun Size candy I can eat in two hours. As I get older (I now make a noise when I get out of the comfortable chair) that number seemd to be going down. To look at me, you’d think it would at least stay the same. There ain’t any less of me than there was, that’s for sure.

Also, the mix of apple cider and Fun Size candy is iffy at best. Mixing Fun Size candy and hard cider is a less good idea. (Just a tip from me to you. Your welcome.)

You’d think last night would sort of do me for candy. At least for a little while. You’d think, that wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you?

It’s 7 A.M. and the non-saved daylight is just breaking over the horizon. All is quiet in the Casa del DeDay. The boys and the dogs are still asleep, and The Little Woman is off to her toil. Here I sit, all alone.

What’s that I here? The crinkle of celophane? A slight whisper? [sub]“eat me”[/sub] Maybe it’s the furnace. But it’s warm still, the furnace shouldn’t be coming on. “Eat me.” Are the dogs stirring? Maybe it’s the trash truck down the street. (Today is trash day.) “EAT ME!” This is creepy. Something’s going on. "EAT ME!"

Gods’ blood on fire! It’s the candy! Must be strong. Must not listen.

In my younger days it wouldn’t have been a problem. Candy can’t talk to you once you’ve already eaten it. (“Kit Kat for breakfast? Sure! Just let me finish these Pixie Stix!”) Then you get a little older and you find out it can. (Mostly “Ha ha, you fool. You knew you shouldn’t have eaten me. Now you pay!” Followed by evil laughter.) A little older still and you get a pre-emptive strike from your body. (“Don’t even think about it, Bub.” Not from your head, but from your abused tummy.)

Maybe I should think about looking into pondering “I really don’t like you rotten kids” treats like toothbrushes or pencils. Pencils don’t talk to nobody.

Who am I kidding? Fun Size Milk Duds for me and all my friends! (If you don’t like Milk Duds I can hook you up with Kit Kats or Almond Joys. Give me a minute and I can grill you up a hot dog.)
-Rue. (who had some tea and a toasted bagel and let the candy murmur amongst themselves)

No it isn’t.

It’s 1:50 in the afternoon.

both of you are wrong! it’s 9:55 pm!

[semi-hijack]
is this gonna turn into another one of those “compare time zones” threads?
[/semi-hijack]

Astronaut person, you’re right and you’re wrong. Mostly wrong, but we won’t quibble.

In the context of the story, it’s always 7:00. Even now, which is (obviously) after when I posted. Even when I posted it was after 7:00 Rue Time, which when you think about it is the most important time there is in reference to the thread. It’s a moment in time trapped in the metaphysical amber of the written word. It’s 7:00 forever. Even when it isn’t. Like now.

Maybe it was never 7:00. Maybe I made the whole thing up. Maybe I don’t exist at all. Maybe I’m just a subroutine of a really powerfull Super Computer (with Spandex tights and cape). Or maybe not at all. You just can’t tell.
-Rue.

That should be “What’s that I hear?”

But it isn’t. It should be, but life is quite unfair at times. (Like at 7:00) If you read it all phonetically it’s Jake though.
-Rue.

No Milk Duds for me, but I did have a couple of Fun Size Snickers bars - chock full of the goodness of the South American Nougat Tree! :smiley:

They didn’t talk to me, tho someone was saying “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” - that coulda been me…

There are peanut M&Ms mere inches away from my keyboard even as I type. Hmmm…[rationalizing] peanuts are protein…and protein is supposed to be good for breakfast… and chocolate must go into survival kits for a reason…[/rationalizing]

  • Hey, this is health food!*

::digs in::

[sub]::holds stomach, groans::[/sub]
So, you got any milk duds left? :stuck_out_tongue:

I’ve been working on the theory that everyone on this website is computer generated and I’m just talking to myself for some time now. You my friend have just called my bluff.

Maybe everthing outside of Camden Town (the entire know universe of course) is just a computer generated thingy. Like the hollo-suit in Star Trek. Or everything outside of my house. Or my room. Or maybe the internet is the universe and the rest of the world is just some sort of wierd network designed as an experiment to see if four extra senses can be created. We know it’s fake because only three succeeded (obviously sight and sound are real - unless sound is created by certain waves of light - such is the depth of this conspiracy).

Er, I’m a bit lost and rambling aimessly now. How’s that for the century posting?
Swish.

Hey, now…leave the technology from the Fortress of SoliDude outta this, okay? Thought you said you wouldn’t give away my secrets. :slight_smile:

I share your pain, Rue. Last night, there was a party going on in the candy bowl by the door at Mom’s house. All the Snickers and Milky Ways kept paging me and my beeper was going off like crazy all night. When I walked past the party bowl, the candy would take its wrappers off, twirl them around over their little chocolate heads like so many strippers, and throw them on the ground at my feet. Bastards. I had a cup of coffee to try and ease the pain, but I admit, one little Snickers met his maker, and I now I have nougat-ey blood on my hands.

Rue,

This is when I celebrate the fact that I’m a childless, stick in the mud spinster (and at a mere 27 years of age).

See, I’m one of those fuddy duddies that turns out the porch light and hides, or just goes out for the evening. That way, no candy is necessary and I suffer the candy coma to a lesser extent.

Of course, that’s all blown to hell because everyone has now brought in all their leftovers to our office I guess everyone had less trick or treaters than they bought candy for.

So in other words, let the food coma begin, because the chocolate’s starting to chatter my name.

And so the holiday season begins in all it’s calorie-laden glory…

Been there, done that. Last Thursday, to be exact.

Since trick or treat night is on some strange night before Halloween in my part of the universe, I didn’t have to deal with the candy hangover this morning. Went through all that last Friday and got it out of my system just in time for Dope-A-Ween.

But I have to go to Costco tonight to get toner cartridges for my printer. I know that the Feed-The-8th-Army size bags of little Hershey bars and other smidgens of chocolatey goodness are going to be on sale for dirt cheap.

Must. . .be. . .strong. . .

Zap!

I’m glad someone else has had this experience, you see I have a theory(well really I guess it’s a hypothesis, being as how it’s not proven by experimental data, but shaddup ok?). You see, there is only one talking milk dud, and it is insidious and cruel. It posesses not only the power of speech, but limited telepathy and the ability to translocate itself with any other milk dud. It spends it’s days hopping from package to package, seducing whoever is nearest. When it is about to be picked up to be eaten, it swaps itself out for one of it’s less fortunate[sub]and EVIL[/sub] relatives. When it is the last one in the package, it swaps itself out for one of the others in a new package at the nearest store. It can only do this long-distance translocation once or twice before it’s exhausted, so it lies dormant until the next time I go to the store before starting it’s sirens call again.

If anyone doubts this hypothesis, I offer the following text from a sign at the movie theater. “Milk Duds, now $.50 cheaper! Stock up now, take advantage of this great deal!” and in the little circle where one of the disempowered and bitter high school students who works at the theater part time writes in the price, it said $2.50. Now, someone please, please tell me how, in the absence of such a sentient, malicious and super-powerful milk dud as I have just described, would this sign ever get reactions like the one my wife uttered “Wow, that is a good deal!”

Milk Dud, your days are numbered. From now on whenever I hear your voice, I’m turning the package upside down into my mouth. Your little translocation trick won’t save you when I eat ALL the Milk Duds on the store shelf. Muwahahaha.

Steven

Nestle Crunch bars are also good breakfast food, 'cause they have cereal in them! Mmmmm…there’s one in my desk drawer, calling my name… :smiley:

ME

I stopped into Albertson’s this morning to pick up stuff for a healthy lunch (salad, lo-fat dressing, and an iced tea).
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B@st@rds put the marked down candy right next to the express aisle.

My justification: …well, my co-workers like when I have cany on the desk, and this way it’s indiviually wrapped and I wont have to worry about grubby hands in the Jelly Belly jar (the JBs are MINE!!! All MY favorite flavors and NOT ONE freakin’ licorice (ick! ptooh!) in the jar, just the way I like it!!!)

But I digress. There were 3 shopping carts full of candy marked down to $1 per bag.

I admit it: I am a compulsive shopper. I have 8 books on self-control (bought them all at once - they were on sale). Under my desk, I now have a recycle bin full of fun-sized Junior Mints, Reeses’ Pieces, Nestlé’s Crunch-a-Bunch chocolate globules, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and several packs of Pez refills. No dispensers, just the packs of orangy refills.

Little by little, it will disappear over the next few weeks. And my JBs will be safe.

Although I will admit, I do speak VERY fluent peanut butter cup. We’ve had a couple of one-sided conversations this morning.

I’m living scout1222’s life right now.

Bet she didn’t know!

Anyways, I pretend Halloween doesn’t exist. I’m a college student, living in college apartments. Little kids know better than to ask us for candy. “Give my candy away?? Why? It’s mine. Who told you to come here? Where is your mother? You should give me your candy.” Good thing no one came last night. They might have gotten a pretzel stick or something.

But, my dastardly boss brought in a Walmart bag (the blue plastic one with that smily face on it) full of Tootsie Pops, Tootsie Rolls, and 3 Musketeers Fun Size bars!! noooooooooo!

And I’m the only one back at the work bench. Big bag of candy… and no one to share it with. One of the Tootsie Rolls started talking, so I ended that conversation quickly and with Infinite Justice[sup]TM[/sup].

Talking Milkduds? Ha, that’s crazy talk. Poppycock.

But last night, as GaWd is my witness, a BabyRuth sang to me. I was drawn to it like the Argos to the rocks, down the stairway I crept, ferreting this melodious packet from the kitchen cabinent it had somehow found it’s way to. I took her lovingly upstairs, bringing a ThreeMusketeers and Smarties to keep her company. “Sing your tempting song, brazen hussy, your tune has no alure for me”, I thought.

::fade to black::

But when I woke up this morning, she and her little friends were gone!!

Really, I don’t recall anything. But somehow I feel just terrible, as if somehow this is all my fault.

[sub]On the bright side, with the hallelujah chorus of candy downstairs, it’s tough to here the beer or brandy sing[/sub]

I will have you all know I have a foolproof, absolutely thigh-trimming solution to Halloween. You buy crappy candy.

This year I stocked up on something called Mary Janes, a hard-as-a-rock peanut-butter type product, wrapped in yellow and red and resembling a small, slim brick. Yum, yum. Not. And Starbursts! Bleck. If I want fruit, I eat fruit. Fruit-flavored candy is for … for, well, my children, who exist solely on gummy worms. I’m never tempted.

My plan was working perfectly until, on the way home from work, I realized I had no film for the camera and thus would be unable to preserve forever, the adorableness of the 2001 Halloween Ellenlings. (OK, you forced it out of me: they both dressed like butterflies and permitted me to put makeup on their faces. They hugged for the picture. You’re damn right I got that on film! “It’s a Kodak Moment!” my astute 6-year-old daughter cried.)

Well, back to the trip home. I stopped off at the grocery store, where there was a feeding frenzy at the front, where all the Halloween candy was displayed. I was stricken with panic that I hadn’t laid in enough Mary Janes, odious though they may be. Ignoring the fact that I always buy way too much candy, I snagged an assortment pack for $6.99 (“Best Value!”), paid for the film and flew home like a madwoman, knowing le hubbie would be wielding knives at about this point, about to commit pumkinicide.

You can guess the outcome. Fun-size Snickers and Three Musketeers conspired to add layers of winter warmth to my previously near-svelt thighs (oh who am I kidding), which probably wouldn’t have been able to withstand the aforementioned Holiday Onslaught anyway.

Sigh. Well at least I had a plan. Bring on the Kisses.

You think that’s bad. My fun-sized twix knocked up my girlfriend and stole all the money out of my dresser drawer.

Well, I know how you feel Rue.

I had bought mostly stuff that I could resist the urge to consume in large quantities, in a short period of time. Stuff like Tootsie rolls, Jolly Ranchers, Jawbreakers, etc. All good candy, just not something that would sit there and call out my name and mock me into a self indulgent haze that would have my teeth and stomach hating me for the rest of the year.

But then, that was when I noticed the Devil candy had somehow worked it’s way into my Wally World bag. Small little foil wrapped demons they are, with their peanut butter innards covered by a skin of chocolate.

Somehow a Bag of Reese’s Peanut butter cups mini’s had made their way into my candy bag!!

I made the sign of the cross, and hid the little orange bag of demons in the cupboard to muffle their taunts and catcalls, and proceeded to get ready for the onslaught of the little monsters looking for their treats.

All was well, until later in the night, when the usual number of kids had failed to show. I had been hoping to stick the demon candy in the unsuspecting little tykes bags, and let it taunt them instead of me, but Alas, I was now stuck with practically a full bag of the Reese’s.

I held out for as long as I could, but their taunts finally drove home, and caused my body to go into Reese’s destruction mode.

As I sat there, amongst the empty bag, with their little foil skins littering my desk and the floor, I felt ashamed, and like a glutton.

But I was also relieved, for how could I even think about dumping those evil little candies upon unsuspecting children. I did what had to be done, and rid the world of another bag of the candy from hell!
Now I must start to prepare my mind for the Christmas season where I will be subjected to more of the demon candy, and it’s demonspawn - Hershey Kisses!