In the aftermath of Halloween I have to share this with you. Butterfingers make me sick. It stems from an incident that took place 13 years ago.
I was at my younger sister’s college graduation. It was hot, close to 100 in the shade and there wasn’t much in the way of food around. For some reason we had a bag full of Butterfingers. I don’t remember why, but I do remember that as the candy and I melted in the sun it was a tasty treat.
Besides, most of these graduations are just boring. All too often you end up listening to some dull speech that would be better suited as a cure for insomnia.
So there I sat in the midst of the proud friends and families of the graduates, wolfing down Butterfingers. Oh, did I mention that the university sold some sickeningly sweet lemonade that I used to wash this down.
Ok, I could continue the build up and background to this but why. Let me cut to the chase.
I didn’t get sick until the next day, as did my father and two of my sisters. It was a bad case of something that requires a description that includes explosive.
Without getting any more graphic allow me to say that I thought that Butterfingers were ok on the way down, but a repeat performance soured me on them. To this day I just can’t eat them. The thought still makes me say bleah.