Halloween, 1997. It was a dark and Stormy Night. Harold decided he was going to Trick or Treat, even though he was technically two years past the age limit. (He was fairly underdeveloped, so he was certain he wouldn’t get hassled about it.) He crafted a costume – he tried for Prince in Purple Rain, but finally settled for a one eyed, one horned, flyin’ Purple People Eater – and set out to find Strangers with Candy.
Harold rang doorbells. He could smell the intoxicating aroma of high fructose corn syrup permeating the neighborhood air. Ahhhh, bliss! “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme!”, Harold thought. “I WANT CANDY!” He was careful not to let his desperation show, however – especially to nosy old Mrs. Kravatz, who tried to peer past the purple into his one visible eye. He kept his cool, remembered to say Thank You, and finally ran home to check out his loot.
Wow! What a haul! He’d scored Hard Candy, Candy Bars, Candy Kisses! (One creepy old man looked like he might be offering Sex and Candy, so Harold had steered WAY clear of that house!) He spread all the yummies out on his bed and flopped in it, ala Demi Moore. He gorged himself until he fell into a sugar induced coma like sleep, and dreamed that he lived on a Big Rock Candy Mountain. As wonderful as that sounds…Harold slept fitfully.
When he awoke, Harold had the Worst Candy Hangover Ever (Almost). Did that stop him? Noooooooo! He had Candy for Breakfast! Ignoring the tummy rumbles, he gobbled down sweet tarts and lollipops, gumballs and taffy! Then…all of the sudden…he heard something faint…almost as if – no! It couldn’t be!
Was that Some Candy Talking? OMG. It WAS! It was a Snickers singing the Talking Candy Bar Blues!
Harold rubbed his eyes furiously, as if his balled fists could erase the horrible hallucination.
“Holy Halloween!”, he thought. “This Candy’s Going Bad!”
Harold then realized that he had gone too far. His head felt like it was filled with Cotton Candy; his bloodshot eyes saw no color but Candy Apple Red. Shaking, he tried to deny his need.
“Candy? I don’t need candy! Nobody Here Eats Candy!” he cried to the chaos of confection that stared him down.
It was no use, though. He was too far gone.
“Who are you fooling, Harold?”, he thought to himself. “You Want the Candy. You NEED the candy.”
Harold’s sticky, chocolate covered hands began to shake. He realized that he was a junkie. A Candy Holic. He was on a slippery, glazed slope that was going to ruin him. What would he do in that no-man’s land between Halloween and Christmas? (Because everyone knows Thanksgiving Candy is CRAP.)
He’d have no choice but to rob a Candy Shop…which would eventually land him in Candy Jail…where some 6’6″ colossus of a Dancing Queen named Sprinkles would make Harold his Candy Boy, force him into a jailhouse Candy Land Wedding and then – ohhhhh, no! The rest was unthinkable!
Oh, Candy…you Bitch.
There was only one thing to do, Harold thought. He had to stop cold. Gathering up all of his ill-gotten goodies, he hopped on his bike and pedaled all the way to the LaBrea Tar Pit. (Which was no easy task, as Harold lived in Des Moines!) With all his might, he flung his Halloween loot into the pit and stared at it. All his beloved Candy in the Sun…to melt and rot.
The moral of the story, you ask? Don’t go Overboard. Stop and Think. You like candy? Fine – So Like Candy! But, when it comes to eating it…Just a Little Bit is good. Relax. Take it Easy! Maybe have a little bit, and Give A Little Bit! Pace Yourself. There are lots of other wonderful things to eat, y’know…Peaches! Broccoli! Heck, Eat Steak!
Just remember that when you Get The Balance Right…then EVERYTHING’s Alright.