Who can take a sunrise...

This one has been brewing and fermenting for a while, and lucky you, you get to read it. So strap yourself in while I take you on tour of a place so magical, so wonderful, it can only be the worst place in the world - the land of candy.

I was first moved to thinking about writing of candy when Easter jumped out at us from behind the vernal corner. No warning, no postcards, just BAM - there it was, all resplendent and covered in pastels. I asked my friend if she made Easter baskets for her kids and she said "of course!" Immediately, the abacus stones in my brain were thrust violently to one side and I was sent tumbling back to 1973 (or 1974 - all the years in the 70s were the same. Until disco). I found myself staring chocolate-brown eye to brown chocolate eye with a hulking behemoth of a bunny. It was enormous and it weighed as much as a pair of wet dungarees. Back then, chocolate bunnies were made of SOLID chocolate, not this fake-me-out hollow business that couldn't withstand the grip of a two year old and collapses more easily than a South American government. I remember those old bunnies because you could never break through and just snap off a piece. Oh sure, the ears were easy prey, but that was like pretending your hot breath on a cold day made you look like you were smoking - anyone could do that. The real challenge was getting to the heart of the beast, namely, when all protrusions and distractions like feet, ears, head, tail had been conquered and you were left with something that resembled a chocolate pancreas brick. And oh what stories that brick could tell: The ridges on all sides gouged by your teeth in thick corduroy fashion desperately looking for a weakness; The fingerprints deeply embedded as you fought and strained to siphon off a chunk; the strangely flat and concussed part where it hit the kitchen floor after your teeth slipped and you accidentally bit a hole into your tongue, your cheek, or both...

But, Easter was more than killer chocolate bunnies. There were other candies, as well - and other candies for other moments. Back then, saying you were going to get a Hershey Bar meant that you were going to get a Hershey Bar - a nice, long flat bar of chocolate that you would happily devour for no reason at all. If you were haute couture, you'd buy the Hershey Bar with almonds. Today, no one just goes into a store and buys a Hershey Bar. And if you do, you don't just sit back in the bean bag chair and eat the whole damned thing. No, today, you break off the conveniently sectioned pieces of a GIANT Hershey Bar and put the rest in the refrigerator or hide them in your desk at work. This, of course, brings me to the miniatures. Now, don't put this all on the shoulders of the hard working folks at Hershey - there's plenty of blame to go around - but, who in the hell decided to call the little pieces of Krackle, Three Muskateers, Mr. Goodbar, etc. "Fun Size"? Are you having "fun" when you eat one? I sure as hell am not. Watching a good chick-flick "weeper"? Don't reach for that candy bowl - you're liable to have "fun" and blow the entire mood. Having the gang over from work and everyone just kind of stares awkwardly, shifting their stances and pushing crackers around on paper plates while you wheel out the half-empty bags of whatever potato chips you had in the cabinet over the stove? Break out the "Fun Size" candies and turn your monastery of a bachelor pad into a roller disco!

Back in the day, there were some great candies that either are not being made anymore or are only available in that one place your sister went with her husband about three summers ago or online from some sketchy guy who also sells "Keep On Truckin'" and "Stoned Again" T-shirts. Let's see if any of these ring the old memory bell:

Marathon Bars - The marketing department nailed this one. Imagine a foot-long link of caramel in the shape of interlocking pretzels and covered with a fragile coating of what passed as chocolate and you have the Marathon Bar. After unwrapping one end and sinking your teeth into a section, the caramel would change properties, converting into some type of evil epoxy that ripped fillings from your teeth, sprained the muscles in your jaw, and left your communication abilities to frantic arm-waving. By the time the enzymes in your saliva freed you from confectionary death and you could finally collect yourself after breathing deeply for a minute or two, what did you do? That's right, you took another bite. Dumb ass.

Charleston Chews - I don't remember much about this candy bar except that it fell in line with the Marathon Bar in the "size matters" category. I think I might have had it once and developed lock-jaw. I also remember the television commercial for it showing some jittery hooligan doing the Charleston dance with his fringy flapper gal. Laugh now. Today, kids are buying candy that looks and feels like snot.

Mallo Cups - Yeah, yeah, I know, they're still around. But, they were never around where I used to buy and steal MY candy. I had to go visit my grandmother in Pennsylvania just to be able to buy Mallo Cups. Talk about a candy that was so sweet and overbearing - it would make the insides of my ears sting. I loved them - well, the idea of them, anyway. Difficult to find in most places that hadn't already been carrying them since the rise of the Ottoman Empire.

Razzles - Is it a candy? Is it a gum? Why, it's two things in one! Razzles MUST have been the result of some maniacal candy scientist trying to come up with some other type of candy and accidentally "discovered" this. I can see it now, the scientist, up all weekend, existing on cigarettes, garden hose water and powdered gravy. After a series of explosions in the lab, all the police find the next day is a shredded lab coat with multi-colored candies stuck to the inside. After a furious game of rock-paper-scissors with his partner and the lieutenant, one officer puts a piece in his mouth while the other policemen and detectives point and say "Ewwww!" He realizes that, hey, this is more than just candy! It's...it's...it's bubble gum, too! Legend has it that every piece of Razzles to this day came from the inside of that lab coat.

Chunky - Imagine if you will a cement trapezoid. Cover it in chocolate. Imagine the rapid increase in emergency room admissions from kids trying in vain to bite through this monstrosity. Imagine being a fat kid being caught by your classmates buying a candy bar with a name like this. Prozac was invented for these kids.

Candy Cigarettes - Oh, here's a great idea. I suppose it would go great with ginger ALE and root BEER that you would drink whenever mom made POT luck dinner and HASH browns. Of course, I drank COKE instead. Gotta admit, though...it did make you look cool when you were seven years old.

Pixie Stix - Sugar. Pure sugar - but worse. Feed this to a monkey in the morning and you'll be digging a grave for it before lunch time.

Hell, today if I take a bite of candy, my whole body becomes stiffer than a teenager riding the school bus (trust me on this, girls). I end up unbalanced and reaching for a solid structure to steady myself like I was caught in an earthquake. My teeth feel fuzzy and I'm already bequeathing all of my possessions to loved ones as I slam onto the couch in a dizzying heap. Then, a tingling euphoria floods over me - kind of like when someone lightly scratches the back of my neck. It feels like a roller coaster ride. I look down at the wrapper that fell on the floor next to me and see that it was a "Fun Size" candy.

Hmmm. Maybe they were right.