I Ate 689 Pieces Of Halloween Candy And Didn’t Get High Even Once!
What gives!?!?
I was stuffing cheaply made mass produced Christmas decorations into my oversized jacket in the back aisle of a crowded Walmart the other week when I overheard a gaggle of soccer moms commiserating in regard to a supposed epidemic of drug-laced Halloween candy.
“You can’t be too safe” said one.
“Too many wackos out there” said another.
“I miss quaaludes” said a third.
Liars, all. Over the course of the last 8 days I’ve consumed enough empty calories to kill a horse and the only high I’ve experienced came in the form of a shrieking night terror that drove my neighbors to drop a “For sale” sign in their front yard. And let’s face it, that ship was gonna sail one way or another regardless.
Where I ask, WHERE, in the leagues of chocolate coated bullshit I shoveled into my awaiting gullet were the supposed rainbow fentanyl? The banana Xanax? The glucose gabapentin? All I have to show for my hard work is a growing difficulty to climb stairs and a scale that shattered under my newfound girth.
I suffered the dirty looks, the sneers, the crippling indignancy from my throngs of Mormon neighbors, too polite to outright refuse a grown man in his late twenties from…
