Easter’s weird. I’ve always taken it as a follow up to Christmas. Nothing can beat Christmas, Jesus’ birthday. Now that’s a freaking PARTY, man. But Easter? What’s that? That’s something about rising from the dead—uh, hold on a moment while I shred past my sister to get to the sofa first, where I know there’s an Easter egg hidden under the couch cushion because I peeked earlier.
Alright. Back to my explanation of Easter. So the Easter Bunny brings baskets of chocolate to celebrate Jesus coming back to life. Let’s say I’m five years old and nodding my head to all this. YUP. YUP. UH-HUH. Sounds good. Great, all of it. Sign me up for this Christian thing and BRING ON THAT BASKET, RABBIT.
I used to think all rabbits were helpers of the Easter Bunny spying on me and my sister. If you’re bad, the Easter Bunny don’t come. So I never once treated her unkindly in the backyard, because those bunnies were everywhere. Maybe we’d start fighting and then we’d hush because we had seen a rabbit in the corner of the yard. Crap. crapcrapcrap. SHHHHHH, I’d hiss. That rabbit might be listening.
I knew Easter also had to do with something religious, umm..it was, yes, God who sent those rabbits to watch us. Because ultimately, it’s not your parents and not the Easter Bunny who bestows baskets of chocolate–it’s God. God’s the decider.
But there’s a lot more weird stuff–like the hokey Easter Bunnies running rampant in the malls and department stores. Look, I’m only eight years old, but I’m no fool. That’s a man in a bunny costume. He’s wearing Nikes. You ever seen a rabbit wear sneakers? I don’t think so. I demand to the see the real Easter Bunny. I DEMAND TO SEE THE REAL EASTER BUNNY.
Easter also churns out some of the weirdest novelty candy. Cadbury Creme Eggs for example; those are pretty weird. They have a creme inside that resembles raw egg. (A delicious, life-giving creme.) What about Russell Stover’s Bird Nests? Those are coconut mounds shaped to look like bird nests. Then there’s the rabbits. And pardon me, but here’s a candy whose main enjoyment derives not from the taste, but from biting the heads off. And when you really get down to it, that’s Easter–biting the heads off things. Easter isn’t just weird. It’s really, really fucked up.
Scanning the candy selection this year, my heart was lightened by learning that Easter is no less weird in 2009 than it was in 1989, and in fact, it’s a hell of lot weirder. And so I present a couple of weird ass candy items found at your local Rite Aid:
1) Edible Easter Grass:
Where do you start with this? Haven’t you always wanted to eat a bale of hay, just like a goat? I want what the goat’s having, Mommy! (Also, I DEMAND TO SEE THE REAL EASTER BUNNY.)
Edible Easter Grass is wafer paper, made of potato starch and rice, and is infused with special chemicals that gives it a green apple flavor. I sampled the grass and it wasn’t half bad. It’s like eating straw that dissolves in your mouth, and if that doesn’t sound appetizing to you, I suggest you get your head checked.
The entire bale is 100 calories, but you’d drop dead before you ate the entire thing. While intitially tasty, it becomes stomach-turning after about 10 strands. This is a product if you have a kid who doesn’t want to stop after 10 Cadbury minis, 5 Peeps, 2 Reese Eggs, and 1 set of rabbit ears. He’ll eat the Easter grass and the freaking basket too, if they invent an edible one. Although you, the bad parent, should really have cut them off from this binge eating.
I suspect this edible stuff is a lot better for the environment than the shreds of green plastic, as well as for your dog’s stomach.
2) Quax, the “yummy ducky”
That thing is EDIBLE? That plastic-looking duck is EDIBLE!?! Has God smiled on me twice today? Finally, finally, I can eat things that look like yellow plastic vinyl. In my life, I love you more.
To be fair, I first learned of Quax over here on Candy Blog. I’d been wanting to try a Quax ever since I read it, and I’ve been wanting to eat a rubber ducky ever since I was born. Today was going to be very special.
You’ll notice that flavor of Quax is “hollow milk”, whatever that means. Sounds creepy. The one thing I’d been dying to do all day, the one thing I’d been pining for and savoring, was biting this duck’s head off. I pictured how it would be over and over, biting perfectly into the round neck. It did not disappoint:
Like the Easter Grass, Quax was also surprisingly good. I liked it. I liked it so much that I ate the whole duck. I really shouldn’t have. I really, really shouldn’t have. My stomach felt funny for about 3 hours afterwards, and I kept burping the aftertaste of vegetable oil. I tried to neutralize it by cutting it with more green apple flavored hay. One bad idea to another.
Maybe that was TMI, but I’m just warning you. I actually began writing most of this entry the night before, intending to finish it after taking pictures. Eating the whole Quax turned me lethargic and slumpy. I couldn’t write any more; I couldn’t think clearly. It’s not real food, people. Don’t make my mistakes.
3) Lindt Mini Chicks
Why do these chicks all look like a car ran over them? Couldn’t Lindt, a fine chocolatier, have done a better job on the foil wrapping? Another weird thing is that the chicks aren’t protected in a seal of plastic, so most of the chocolates on the shelves were smashed in. Indeed, I too felt tempted to smush a head in with my thumb while standing in the Rite Aid. It took me a while to find a “good” box.
The price point for these guys was high–$4 for a 5 pack. Four dollars for 5 tiny pieces of candy that’s wrapped like shit? Why?
Another satisfying head-biting experience. These guys taste amazing. Really, really good chocolate. I guess that’s why they each cost 400% more than Quax. And also unlike Quax, who doesn’t have a single real ingredient inside of him, the Mini Chicks are made with old-fashioned cocoa, milk, sugar, and butter. Who’d think that people still eat that stuff?
They kind of remind me of The Temptations. I guess you’ll say, what can make me feel this way?
Eating the whole Quax made me feel “that way”.