It sat there like the cold uncaring object that it is. Stiff and plastic. Holding the colorful contents within its big belly like some prize that could not be attained.
I narrowed my eyes, squeezing them closed and tried desperately to shut out the sounds of the screaming candy within the jar. “Jean, Jean,” they cried. “Save us from mold and mildew.” Their tiny voices sounded hurt and scared. They wanted out. They needed my help. They promised not to leave candy residue on my palms. I couldn’t resist that promise.
I walked to the jar and scooped a handful of the tiny Jelly Belly bodies into my loving hand. I popped them slowly by twos into my mouth. They’re so small. Actually like tiny candy vitamins if you really think about it. Not big enough to have harmful sugars and fats. They put those thoughts in my head I think. Perverted little sugary bits.
They forgot to warn me, however, that a handful would stick to my innards and blow up like golf balls causing great stomach grief. Gag. I hate the little monsters. Ugh. My stomach is bloated with bits of candy that seem to be dancing with outright torment at my moment of weakness.
I hate Jelly Belly candies.
