Breaking Off A Piece

So there’s a lot of candy out there. What makes a candy bar a candy bar?

Imagine this scenario: You’re at the grocery store with your mom. Or dad. Grandpa. Aunt. Someone who could sign a permission slip for you to go on a field trip.

And you do a great job.

You’re well-behaved, don’t get lost and generally allow said permission-slip-signer to accomplish the task of purchasing groceries.

You’re in the checkout lane, and you hear, “You know what, Andy? [Ed. note: I know that’s not your name.] You did such a great job today. Go pickyaself out a candy bar.”

You shriek and dart to the candy aisle/shelf/zone. After brief deliberation, you select your treat, bring it back to the cart and place it in gently (or not gently … it’s not important how recklessly you’re treating this candy bar but really, show some respect).

Did your mom let you keep it in the cart?

That’s a candy bar.

You have to be kidding.

Nope. And I’m not budging on that.

So, M&Ms?

Is it in a single-serve bag? Candy bar.

Skittles?

Candy bar.

Junior Mints? Sour Patch Kids?

Are they in a personal package?

No, like, theater-size boxes.

You don’t have a very discerning parental unit. Nope. Out the cart.

What if I picked a bag of Funyuns?

I’m pretty sure your mom told you to pick out a candy bar.

Also … Funyuns?

Starburst?

That stick is a dadgum candy bar.

Airheads?

I’m inclined to say yes, but that’s up for discussion. We’ll talk about it.

Tic-Tacs.

Any kid who chose Tic-Tacs is mature enough that they didn’t need to be rewarded with candy at the grocery store in the first place.

You didn’t answer me.

Get the f*** off of my blog.