Not a Werthers in sight, nary a Brachs–each Christmas you confront the bowl of generic hard candies. The butterscotch is a safe bet, as long as you avoid its lighter yellow asshole cousin, lemon. You might even get lucky and score a strawberry in the mix. Wait, are you even allowed to eat these? Or were they just here for decoration? Every year I encounter one of these bowls, raid it for “the good ones”, and then whistle unsuspiciously as I walk away, leaving wrappers in my wake.
Then there’s this charming can of Old Fashioned Hard Candy I picked up at the Dollar Tree. Each piece is self-contained cavity, in the flavors of Scope, Sucrets, Licorice and Lemon. These would look perfect on a gingerbread house. Shitty hard candy is a Christmas tradition people.
Remember to keep a box of chocolate covered cherries in your traditions as well. The cheap brands always have the thick white liquid while the better brands have a thinner clear one. I think both are pretty good, even though these particular cherries hurt the hell out of my teeth. That’s a sign of getting old, from a kid who used to pound back packets of Fun Dip and tubes of Pixy Stix. Oh man. But who doesn’t love shitty cheapo chocolate covered cherries? Say that one five times fast. A dollar well spent, I say.
Look at the wrapping on this frosted Santa cookie. Does that little ribbon look like it’s keeping the cookie inside fresh? You’re right to be skeptical. The fossil preserved inside is about 22 years old, a leftover from the 1986 batch. It claims to be fresh. I put it to the test.
This is the Santa Cookie with a knife being driven into its face. The armor of frosting is the first line of Santa Cookie’s defense, strong enough to crack a molar. I am actually putting a fair amount of pressure on the knife here, but the cookie doesn’t give. The thing’s harder than the Peep from last Easter found behind the refrigerator.
That’s Santa Cookie, broken only after being dropped from the top of the Empire State Building. For scientific purposes, I ate a piece of his face. I ate the smaller piece with the eyeball. The epidural frosting was indeed a layer of sheet metal, sending another jolt of pain through my tooth. I just can’t hang like I used to. I can’t eat pure corn syrup anymore. Even the thought of eating Smarties, an entire packet at once, just like old times, makes my jaw hurt like the screeching of nails on a chalkboard.
This is another one of those cookies in a tin from the Original Gourmet Food Company, whom I previously wrote about their shitty cookies in a Halloween post, A Halloween Cookie. I just can’t get over how pathetic the packaging is. That gingerbread man is seriously warped looking. Was he drawn to depict the precise moment he began to fall over backwards on his ice skates? What about use of TWO exclamation points in the I LOVE statement? Because I think this company hates gingerbread cookies. Just look at it.
AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! Ignore for a moment that the cookie appears to be decomposing. I didn’t know faces of cookies could appear so vacant and demented. Has there ever been a horror movie starring a sicko serial murdering gingerbread man?
Though I was concerned the cookie may contain traces of lead, I sampled this one for science as well. Compared to Santa Cookie, this one melted in my mouth. It was soft, bready, and then had an incredible rush of salt aftertaste. I took another bite to be sure. It was like eating a saltlick. Santa would come into my room with a sawed-off shotgun if I left this cookie out for him on Christmas Eve.
So yes, those are THE SURFING PIZZA’s Dollar Store Snacks. Now I’m off to eat something that’s deserving of the fine china — packet-made french onion dip.