Regardless of all the disagreements currently happening – whether they’re about politics, sports or the cultural significance of magic-based television specials – I think the majority of civilized and mentally sound citizens can agree on at least one thing: terrible Trick-or-Treat candy. There are some pieces of matter that you shouldn’t even bury in the Earth, much less put inside the bag of a child whose taste buds are still under development. But perfect Halloween bags are nearly impossible to come across, because every neighborhood has miserable mopes who are determined to (perhaps unintentionally) ruin the greatest holiday of the year for those interested in the sugar-coated macabre.
Arriving home on Halloween night is supposed to be followed by a jubilant bag-dumping, with a waterfall of chocolate, caramel and other blissfully melty morsels cascading onto the bed or couch or welcome mat, depending on how far you actually get into the house. But there’s always something there to screw it up, and these are the ten worst candies to find cohabitating with your Snickers and your Twix. We’re throwing Mini Almond Joys up in the air as quote marks when we say candies.
Good & Plenty
Good & Plenty candies were first produced in Philadelphia in 1893 and are presumably the reason why anyone has ever shown disdain for Americans ever since. I would gladly receive and eat an apple with a ring of razor blades sticking out of it than put my tongue anywhere in the vicinity of this hot medicinal garbage. There’s a reason why there’s still Plenty.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: Please give me a reason to hate you and everything you love in a one-second gesture.
Getting peppermints on Halloween is the equivalent of getting individually-wrapped socks on your birthday and Christmas and Valentine’s Day and your anniversary, with a card that says “I didn’t plan for this.” The only reason any peppermints should be in my candy is if I’m already using an unemptied bag of peppermints as my trick-or-treat container.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: Please find something in your purse that you haven’t touched in months.
Somewhere in the world, the first package of Sugar Babies ever produced is still being picked at, because it takes the length of a healthy pet’s life to eat one of the damned things. (Don’t even get me started on the weapon-in-training that is a Sugar Daddy.) Only a dentist in dire need of patients would go this route.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: My teeth called you a piece of shit, now what are you going to do to get revenge on them?
If you write the word fruit on a piece of paper, it will taste more like real fruit than anything that’s ever come out of a Dots gumdrops box. How did gumdrops make it past an aborted planning stage? Making things worse are the special Halloween-centric Ghost Dots, which are all the same color, so you can’t tell what lab-created essence you’re assaulting your mouth with until you bite into one. Also, Yogurt Dots should be tried in Texas for flavor murder in the first degree.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: What’s the most depressing gluten-free thing in your house that rhymes with dumb-glops?
This Peanut Butter Shit
Peanut butter candies dressed up in Halloween’s signature orange and black colors. Nothing can go wrong with this, right? Just like nothing can go wrong with using a plastic grocery bag as a parachute when jumping off of a building. Why were you jumping off of a building? Because some unsympathetic asshole put these rat-repellers in with the edible candy.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: I’m looking for something to weigh down a body in the river. Your body.
While Sugar Babies take forever to eat, at least they give you the illusion of actually getting somewhere while you chew. It’s said that there are almond bits inside of the Bit-O-Honey taffy, but trying to find them is like Andy Dufresne trying to spoon his way out of prison. It may eventually happen, but there’s some shit-wading to do along the way.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: Do you have anything sturdy enough to prop my car on so I can change my tire?
I consider myself lucky that I live in the South and thus didn’t have to deal with Necco Wafers on a regular basis, and falling into ditches and accidentally swallowing some of the sewage was the closest alternative. Licorice AND clove candies in one easy-to-crumble package? It’s like throwing a penny into a wishing well by digesting it and shitting it out.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: Have you the edible version of mothballs?
There are two kinds of these strawberry sweets. One of them is basically just a hard candy through and through, while the other has a gooey, juicy center. The only way to figure out which is which is to put one into to the chamber of a gun and play Russian Roulette with it. Some people like one and hate the other, but the only natural reaction is to avoid them both and eat an actual strawberry.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: What did you steal from the funeral director’s desk drawer today?
It takes the rarest of the rare house to give out chocolate eggs on Halloween, given the implication that these candies have been gathering foil dust since Easter. But it’s one of very few examples in which chocolate can completely ruin a bag of treasures, and it shows a person’s dedication to instilling unexpected misery in the world around them.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: Here comes Peter Cottontail.
If we’re getting right down to it, candy corn isn’t the most disgusting candy in the world. But it has the consistency of university-educated curdled milk and doesn’t know whether it wants to be sweet or ignored for the rest of existence. If candy corn desserts are becoming a bigger thing now, let’s completely eradicate them from the Halloween world, shall we?
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: Ebola or treat.
Bonus Non-Candy: Dubble Bubble
We live in a world where there have been amazing advances in the world of bubble gum. Not only in the vast assortment of flavors, but in the types of bubble gums you can get, from coated and minty to pillowy and fruity. The only obvious reason Dubble Bubble can still exist is that its immortal inventor Walter Diemer signed an eternal pact with the demon god of Halloween.
Instead of saying “Trick or treat,” I should have said: Have you got anything that’s pink but shares all of the classifications of igneous rock?
Nick is a Cajun Country native, and is often asked why he doesn't sound like that's the case. His love for his wife and daughters is almost equaled by his love of gasp-for-breath laughter and gasp-for-breath horror. A lifetime spent in the vicinity of a television screen led to his current dream job, as well as his knowledge of too many TV themes and ad jingles.
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