Starbursts with no pesky oranges, no cloying yellows. Instead, you get cherry, strawberry, fruit punch, and watermelon.
Why is God so good to me? More importantly, why haven’t I been able to find these Starbursts ANYWHERE since I first encountered them at a gas station convenience store in the middle of nowhere en route to Baton Rouge?! This needs to be addressed immediately. Thank you for your concern.
Just wanted to point out that you use the word ‘cloying’ more often than is necessary. Otherwise I enjoy the blog!
Thanks for the input. It’s hard to find a synonym for “cloying” — saccharin just doesn’t seem right, oversweet is too boring… etc. Let me know if you can think of anything better.
This reminds me of a story in which a guy, who works in an insurance office, and is fed up with his life — which consists of selling his product, and a mean product it is, the actuaries being most conservative that year — wanders down to Grand Central in New York and lost in his contemplation of premiums and what-nots finds a hidden secret passageway to a THIRD level in the station, wherein he finds himself surrounded by all manner of people as seen in the Great Year of Our Lord 1890, and who speak in run-on sentences a page long, with top hats and trousers and fantastic sex lives; and thus finding himself surrounded attempts to purchase tickets to him hometown in chilly Illinois, but discovers to his epic chagrin that his modern money of cotton and pyramid-eye is of no use in those epic-er time; and so he is forced to leave that third level and return to his life of actual actuary; and ho-hum and hoo-haa and so on, and those Starburst are *that* and you are him; and mayhaps those were from a bygone time and way past their expiry date.