Sometimes you just want to eat food that sucks. Food that will fucking make you detest yourself. The pain of eating bullshit pooled with the ache of fucking hating yourself is incredibly satisfying in a getting strangled while fucking kind of way. So when I saw these fucking little morsels of gobbledygook I knew that the pastels and cute little logos were covering up the food of pure loathing.
I love candy eggs. They’re delicious and tiny enough that when compared to my testies I look like a fucking Frost Giant (Conan reference! it also implies that I am pasty in the junk: fact!). The crunchy candy shell, the firm, delicious milk chocolate hibernates beneath its exoskeleton, everything’s lined up to drain you of your spinal fluid and leave you a limp, sloppy, zombie of a man. It’s such a delicate combination and the fucking key elements are placed so precariously that fucking with it’s components will cause everything to come crashing down on your fucking skull leaving brain matter and skull crumbs all over the new button-down shirt your parents bought you with the hopes that you would land this job at the post-office and move the fuck out of their house. You just hope you get it so you can fashion yourself after Charles Bukowski and smoke hash, drink wine, and get laid by all sorts of subway-stop trannys. But you won’t be able to because your skull is split wide fucking open and everyone can see your porno dreams about horses and hairy backed women from the turn of the century. You have very specific tastes and I would salute you for it except that your face is a pile of pulp, you bastard.
While this combination is so specific and constantly on the verge of toppling over and maiming and/or flattening others, the fucking engineers at Cadbury have found out how to stack that motherfucker even closer to God without having it come down around their ears.
The addition of imitation Pop-Rocks to the hard candy shell is a stroke of genius. You kind of don’t notice the popping at first because the rocks are embedded in the candy so it basically has to dissolve in your mouth before the rocks are exposed and send your tongue and gums on a fucking magical journey. It’s sneaky and at first I didn’t realize that anything was happening so I swallowed the candy and then it went of like a crate of dynamite that I threw right into the fucking sun. What a fucking stupid combination. It's so incredibly pointless and unnecessarily aggravating but it feels so fucking incredible to eat chocolate and have your throat feel like it's being scraped with the back of a claw hammer.
It’s subtle, like the first time you get a foot job. You’re like I’m not really into having any foot play hooked up on my wiwi and then next second you’re the fucking mayor of Orgasmville. You sit back in your throne in city hall, proudly wearing the Orgasmville sash around your chunky torso like a caveman wears animal pelts or like my Uncle Henry wore little boys before they sent him off on his iron vacation.
These eggs will impress.
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