Candy Diversity

The trick-or-treaters started picketing in the front yard before nightfall on Halloween.

“It’s a school night,” one of the little punks informed me.  “My mommy wants me home by seven thirty.”

During their afternoon protest, they had trampled on our graveyard, a collection of tombstones and bones I throw out into our front yard every year with the help of my daughter.  Their signs, whose phrases were spelled with all the dexterity of a first grader, read, “Mor Starburst!”, “Twizlers matter!”, and “No more choklit patrarky!”  (I think they meant patriarchy, unless there’s a new kind of candy called the “patrarky.”)

What was my sin?  What did I do to deserve this?  What could have prompted this response from a group of costumed kiddies?  The Hulk had joined forces with a witch.  Dracula walked hand-in-hand with Tinkerbell.  LOL Spice Surprise shared sidewalk with a werewolf.  What had I done to arouse their ire?

It was the candy: a lack of candy diversity had condemned me.

Social Justice for Candy

I knew I was guilty, but I never expected to get caught.  Even when I was putting together this year’s candy bowl, I said to myself, “I need something besides milk chocolate, almonds, and tasty nougat here.”  I’d mulled my options, everything from the mundane lollipop to Swedish fish, from bubble gum to candy buttons, but I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pull the trigger.

As for dark chocolate, I didn’t get it.  Did people really prefer that bitter chalkiness to the smoothness of milk chocolate?  Sure, it was okay to mix it in every now and again, like listening to the occasional disco hit – I’d been known to sing along to a Bee Gee’s tune now and again – but not as a steady diet, and certainly not in my Halloween candy bowl.

My Halloween candy bowl is an exclusive club.  Not just any confection is permitted.  I have certain standards.  Milk chocolate is, of course, a requirement.  Nougat and various types of nuts are allowed: almonds, peanuts, the under-appreciated hazelnut.  Chewy caramel, peanut butter center, crunchy candy shell?  Top of the bowl.

Was that wrong?  Who could complain about that?  A lack of candy diversity?  I had Snickers side-by-side with KitKats, M&Ms cozying up to Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Milky Way wrapper-in-wrapper with Butterfingers!  Why, this was a veritable candy melting pot!  (Just don’t leave the bowl out in your car on a sunny day.)  Where had I gone wrong?

Press Time

The news crews arrived before sunset.  There was still time for the protest to make the late night edition.  The vans lined both sides of the street.  Spotlights shone on the house.  As I squinted out of a second floor window, I could hear the reporters:

“Lack of candy diversity is causing an uproar in this small community in Louisville tonight.  Mr. Robert Glover has denied admittance to all candies of nonchocolate heritage to his candy bowl.  Despite massive protests from neighborhood trick-or-treaters, he refuses to allow any items with less than twelve percent milk solids and twenty-five percent cocoa solids to enter…”

Another:

“Toxic choco-linity has come to Kentucky as Mr. Glover has denied any nonchocolate representation in his candy bowl.  This is one of the most blatant cases of sweet-ism this reporter has ever encountered.”

And another:

“Justifiable outrage in Kentucky tonight as a local homeowner tries to turn back the clock to the days before bubble gum.”

I never anticipated the amount of ire an Almond Joy could draw.

Panic

Meanwhile, the little brats continued their march, complaining the whole time about my alleged lack of candy diversity.  What could I do?  I didn’t normally associate with Nerds or Starburst.  Oh, sure, a few jelly beans here and there, but they were out of season – wrong holiday entirely.

I’m sure there were a few flavors I might have liked had I gone out of my way to try them, but it was too late now.  I was stuck.  The best I could do was to liven thing up with a few Werther’s butterscotches, but I worried my efforts would appear insincere, as though all I wanted was to ingratiate myself with a bunch of young kids.  Would a token butterscotch cause them to cave in?

Past Their Bedtime

Just after eight o-clock, angry shouts dulled to a murmur.  Strange, I thought, and peeked out from behind the drapes.  The kids were throwing in the wrapper and getting into their parent’s cars.  With the children buckled safely into car seats and driven home, there was no longer a reason for the news vans to hang around, so they left as well.

By eight-thirty, I was alone with my segregated candy bowl.

A Full Bowl

What was I left with besides a full bowl of candy?  Did I have any remorse over a lack of candy diversity?  Would I change my evil ways and offer some nonchocolate treats?

Not a chance.

It’s chocolate or bust for me.  How about you?