PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,
Font size: +

Butterfingers

Butterfingers Nobody Likes Me

The very best Halloween candy out there is still, hands down, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I don't know who would even try to argue that, but I've heard a lot of crazy arguments recently so don't put it past someone.

I guess I'd give second place to Snickers, and after that it's a tossup. You got your 100 Grand, your M&Ms and your M&Ms with Peanuts. You got your Baby Ruth, your Milk Duds, your Junior Mints, your Kit Kat, and your Twix. All good, second/third tier candy bars. They're not Reese's, but they get the job done.

And you also got your Butterfingers.

Butterfingers aren't bottom-dwellers like Twizzlers, or Swedish Fish. They're not Neccos or Dots or – ack! – Almond Joy (hate coconut in candy bars). Butterfingers are legit. Yes, they splinter like old maple boards and probably are clogging your arteries. But even if they are reducing your lifespan, they are quite tasty.

Yet somehow, the kids who came to our street to Trick or Treat this year eschewed our Butterfingers. They wanted Reese's of course (we didn't have those because they don't make it past my mouth) but were willing to settle for Twix. Meanwhile, someone in our house had put out a new Reese's product called "Take 5" that I was told was awesome, with pretzels and peanuts and cheddar cheese or something inside. However, to be quite frank, Reese's will never be able to improve upon the Peanut Butter Cup. Still, this unnamed person thought they were so excellent that she held them back from the hoards of begging youths wandering our street, such that by 7:20 the only thing left to offer were the Butterfingers. No big deal.

When our doorbell rang and I brought out the bowl, there was a notable sigh of dismay from the ghouls and grim reapers at the door. One aggressive child grabbed a handful of Butterfingers and ran off, maybe to trade with someone who hadn't been clued it that Butterfingers were apparently poison. But the other two took one each and quietly left with their parents. And as I was closing the door, one said to his father, "I hate Butterfingers." 

Poor Frankfurters
The Acorn Spitter
 

Comments

No comments made yet. Be the first to submit a comment
Already Registered? Login Here
Guest
Wednesday, 22 May 2024

 

 

Daily Haiku

 

Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  

 

College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.

 

Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not

 

I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car

 

My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not

 

It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means

 

Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes

 

Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees

 

Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning

 

Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

Golf War and Peace Bands I've Seen afterlife Marketing Gimmicks Soup Yeast NFL curling shoes Bill Monroe Candy COVID-19 Barber Shops Art My sisters high winds nukes Head injuries Mom and Dad Rabbit Hole Elvis Presley Ukraine technology Hot Air Balloon First World Problems NPR Europe town square Soviet Union Car Dealerships baseball Royal Stuff Politics As Usual People I know Roommates I've Had cornhole Earth Music Guns and Ammo The future Bob Dylan coronavirus Smoke Meat Coyotes Masks Soul Coughing Stairs Fiction Bodysurfing When I die Martinis Biden Audubon Bar Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde Canada Pats Weather Snow Guns Halloween Eating and Drinking Short Fiction Good Reads Brain Surgery Eclipse acerbic high school principal Grass Skiing Ticketmaster Putin Chowder Vaughn Allergies My grandparents My Estate Them Kids Texting Belgian Ales Hawaii New England the sea Bands I haven't seen Diseases Beer Soccer The Past The Old Days Climate Change Bicycles Teeth Boston Vaccines Email Drumming College Hurricanes Brewing weather Wind Bunker COVID Cats Liz Phair Mass General Hospital punk music Emergencies plan mid-winter vacations midwinter vacations vacation Hache Verde Skating Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Joan Jett winter Things I've done Hand Planes Stories I should write Work US Senate Existential Crisis Zoom Folk Music Rock Bands Knots Cars 1980s Syracuse Real Estate Spice Girls Motorists Bands I've seen Ketchup Bikes soapbox rantings Skiing TV Sports Audio Scotch and Sirloin Mustard BB King Theater Imaginings Canadiana Peacekeeping Higher Education seasons Ice Dancing Butterfingers Spoon the band My Parents Christmas Football Me Cornhole star Plastic gathering throngs Tom Waits Communication Channels Big Shoes tambourrine China Dad advice Reveillon Accounting Mike Doughty Trump Red Sox the future Quebect The Future Religion Advertising Sugarbush Radiohead Food Godfather