Sponge Bob Candy
Most people who know me know that I am a huge fan of terrible things that should not be, when you mix that concept with candy it is almost always a sure fire way to get me to eat something. Veronica loves sales, if you mix that with candy she is probably going to buy—possibly all of—it. This is a story about how we ended up with several bags of Sponge Bob approved crabby patties.
Halloween ended. This means two things for the world at large; the first is that you have a large amount of pumpkins kicking around that are going to rot if you don’t do something about that. The second is that every store every conceived of has an overstock of candy on their shelves that they try to get rid of under the pretenses of it being on sale (who really does a price check on this though? How do we know it isn’t double the price with a sale sign on it?). Short story long Veronica dragged me out on the first of November to check out the discounts.
While my smart and awesome wife was looking for the more mainstream Hersey type products I was busy digging through the racks to try and find the most obscure items possible. For most people this might be an eyeball candy (which always suck) or something that says it is “super sour!” (which never lives up to the “super” moniker that it tries to boast). The truth is that these are the normal oddities that you can find pretty much anywhere. I want to find something that you look at and not only wonder about the poor series of choices that led the manufacture to create it, and try and sell it, but also wonder about my sanity by buying it.
Entire the Crabby Patty.
I knew from looking at the packaging that this was probably going to be a home run. Most novelty candies try to focus on one thing if they are going to make any attempt to do it well, like make this eyeball taste like strawberries and marshmallows. A dead giveaway on these is when it says that is also has another flavor inside, like grape tongues. Add in some “sour” ones and you have a trifecta of half-hearted attempts at your cash. Sponge Bob’s packaging promised me all these things. Also it was marked down dramatically more than everything else there, which is never a good sign of a well selling product.
I grabbed a bag and walked over to Veronica and threw it into her little shopping basket, I tried to mumble something under my breath of, “It is cheap, please don’t judge me.” To which she only smiled and acted like I wasn’t of questionable intellect to be trying to buy a themed candy for a show neither of us had watched in the better part of a decade. Happily the only time that she mentioned it again was when we were checking out, and the price—for a rather large bag—came up to 1.50 to which she commented, “those are really cheap!” Something that both disproved my theory that she doesn’t hear me when I speak insanity and that she is never truly surprised by what I do anymore.
Sadly everything kind of falls apart after that. There was a grand idea that they would taste like poop left out too long, but the truth is that they kind of taste like rejected peeps that produced a child with gummy worms. While they are about 90% air they have an interesting enough texture to almost make them enjoyable to eat. The best part about this is that when Veronica went back to buy a large amount, or as I call it an unreasonable amount, of re-marked down candy she bought several more bags.
The answer is four years. It took me four years to drive my wife to my level of insane.