Leftover Halloween Candy

Leftover Halloween Candy

From A 6th Bowl of Chicken Soup for the Soul

Leftover Halloween Candy

People crave laughter as if it were an essential amino acid.

Patch Adams

I polished off the last piece of Halloween candy today. Don’t ask me why I have the need to tell you this, but there it is. For trick-or-treaters, my husband and I stocked fifty Hershey bars, fifty Nestlé snacks and fifty Baby Ruths.

We had a total of three beggars. They were on the honor system. We held the basket out and let them choose. The little five-year-old was adorable. She delicately reached in and extracted a single candy bar. The kid behind her, who looked about eight, took three without batting an eye. And the oldest one, who probably had a mustache under his mask and drove the car, reached in with both pig hands and dragged out five or ten pieces. It was like one of those giant claws in a machine where you’re trying to snare the diamond ring.

I had every intention of putting the leftover candy in the freezer, but my husband said, “Why? You’ll just break a tooth or buy a chain saw.” He thinks he’s funny.

I buy candy only once a year. I know how I am. If it is around, I will not rest until every piece is gone.

I did not eat the Halloween candy indiscriminately. I used it as rewards.

I rewarded myself for remembering to take the chicken innards out of the freezer and deposit them in the trash can the night before garbage day. I got a candy for every right answer I got on Jeopardy! I got a treat for ironing the back of my husband’s shirt and another for eating a two-day leftover.

One night just before dinner, my son dropped by in time to see me pop a Baby Ruth in my mouth.

“I thought you always told us candy would ruin our dinner.”

“This is different. It’s a reward.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For having the strength to stop at one candy bar while I’m cooking.”

“Come to think of it,” he said, “all that Halloween candy we got that you stored in the freezer, we never saw again.”

“I told you the ants got it.”

“How could ants live in the freezer?”

“They dressed warm.”

“I think you polished it off a piece at a time.”

When he left, I was stressed from all the questions. A Hershey bar seemed to soothe me somehow.

Erma Bombeck

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