Many people don’t know this, but this woman:
Her right here? She is the inventor of Snickers. This meme depicts her expertly formulating nougat, caramel, peanuts, and milk chocolate into what has been scientifically proven to be the world’s most perfect candy bar.
Unfortunately, I OD’d on Snickers back in the day when I stole and consumed them daily from a job I worked in college. Now, I’ve gone totally rogue and love me a good tuggy, sticky, fluffy, tasty, bi-texturey, milky, melty motherf*ckin Charleston Chew!
Kit-Kats are among the most versatile of candy. Part chocolate, part cracker, their crunch is irresistible. Plus, they’re good both frozen or at room temp. Break me off a piece, baby!
To answer the question as posed: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Clearly.
No. Shut up. Do yourself a favor and shut up. Any dumb argument you’re starting to form in your dumb brain is dumb and I hate you. But you were even more of a dummy if you ever held on to more than two or three of them to eat.
Amazing as they are, the RPBC is nevertheless a consistently and hugely overvalued commodity. End of the day, almost all candy is fucking delicious, and trading for multiples of almost anything is the disciplined, smart move.
Think of it like Moneyball. I never read Moneyball. Or saw Moneyball. But I bet it’s exactly like that. Moneyball.
I’m a little embarrassed by my taste level but I was all about the Three Musketeers. On the plus side, it was a very easy candy to trade for on the post-Halloween trading floor, also known as our living room carpet, because nobody else valued its fluffy, nougaty goodness like I did.
100 Grand pretty much had it all in terms of taste, plus it came with a fun name. There were enough Snickers and Milky Ways to last you months, but it was a rarity to see that red wrapper. Inside awaited gooey caramel and crisped rice covered in chocolate. It was even bumpy, which was weirdly fun, as a kid.
When asked, “What is the best candy in the world made out of?” I can only reply with a Stone Cold, “IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT THE BEST CANDY IN THE WORLD IS MADE OUT OF.” All that matters is that it is the best. Cotton candy is sweet to go, but all I want is that Tootsie Roll.
100 Grands and, prepare to have your mind blown, ALMOND MOTHERFUCKING JOYS. That’s right. Chocolate, coconut, and a single almond. Deal with it, haters. I passed off all the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups I’d received to my sister so I could snatch up all her Almond Joys in return. #OverjoyedByAlmondJoys
Peanut M&M’S. Those crack-infused orbs of goodness. They’re incapable of disappointing you, even when you get the weird-looking Siamese ones. I mean, they melt in your mouth, not in your fucking hand. What sorcery is this? They’re not gonna let this world or your pocket or your bag crush it before it completes its mission cause they’re each strong, independent pieces of candy. Their steadfast purpose—to bless your taste buds with a chocolate crunch—keeps you coming back for more. And more. And oh, this very large yellow bag labeled “SHARING SIZE” is empty, how weird, I don’t recall sharing with anybody.
Double Bubble. Really built up the jaw muscles.
Some would say that I have the misfortune of being allergic to nuts. But on Halloween, I’d say it was my greatest fortune because everyone always wanted Reese’s, and I had the power to give it to them, for the small price of two candy bars for one. So take your filthy Reese’s and give me your Milky Ways and your Kit-Kats and the best candy of all: Twix. Chocolate, caramel, and cookie?? What more could you ask for? Eat it the moment you pick it up in the store; save your second stick for later; pop it in the freezer so the whole bar crunches in your mouth and the caramel is sticky. The possibilities are endless!
Bite-sized 3 Musketeers. The fluffiness of this divine candy is allegedly best enjoyed in moderation. That’s why bite sized is best: you can eat more than one of them, and thanks to their airy texture never really *feel* like you’re stuffing your face full of chocolate the way you would feel if you ate a full-sized candy bar or four. Not that you’d do this or I’ve done it, but the texture is just so good and the taste is just so right and when it’s on sale the day after Halloween you’d be a fool not to stock up and it’s fine to eat chocolate for breakfast and oh I guess I’m going as body issues for Halloween again.
I’m going to that old lady’s house where she gives out pennies and Wether’s originals. It’s hard out here for a caramel-lovin’ pimp.
Reese’s Pieces. BUT, the best kind can’t actually be found at Halloween. It’s only the supersized Reese’s pieces eggs they sell at Easter that have the perfect ratio of peanut butter to candy shell. Come early March you’ll find me perusing the special section in the middle of Walgreens and getting some of this seasonal candy “for my kids”.
Peanut butter cups aren’t bad, but, and I may lose some friends over this, peanut butter is better than chocolate and can stand alone if need be.
Whatchamacallit—not to be confused with the failed Thingamagig. Whatchamacallit never took off like wildfire but it had a steady and loyal following which included me. My so-called friends would make fun of me for choosing it—ridiculing someone for their choice of candy bar, how low can you go? There would always be a kindred spirit giving them out on Halloween and I’d trade up all of the boring popular stuff to get a handful of them, then fawn over them they way Gollum fawns over the ring. “The precious.”
“Tommy? Tommy, is that you, Tommy?” The old man peered through the screen door and his fish bowl glasses, over the ghostbusters and ninja turtles, to me and my friends. All ego and confidence withered. His skeletal hand motioned for me to come forward as he announced his intent loudly. “Tommy, for you I have a special treat.” The crowd peeled away as I approached. Eyes glared. Why would I get more than a nickel? The old man, my next-door neighbor since I was two, let them wonder. I pushed the door open as he shuffled to find the gift. The room smelled of ear wax and moth balls. He turned slowly, holding up a crisp one-dollar bill. “Here you go, Tommy.” He dropped it into my pillowcase heavy with treats. Later I my sister would say she’d only got fifty cents. Already I was learning: the privilege of being a white male.
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