Butterscotch Bastard

In a recent e-mail reply I ended up writing about the yellow candy that a lot of people tend to hate: butterscotch. Hate is a strong word, isn't it? That's why I'm using it. Regarding this artificially flavored not-so-delight, I'm at the opposite end. Posting an entry such as this would be more appropriate around late October but I might forget. I won't even be in the U.S. in October. Where I'll be, a time like that is celebrated by chilling out at the graveyard with relatives both alive and elsewhere.

Here's my e-mail reply:

Halloween is a special time of the year when the little kiddies go out as ghosts, heroes and occasionally mass-murderers. It's all in good fun, of course, as they go door to door in an effort to fill their bags and buckets with a treasure trove of sweets. At the end of the night there are favorites to be found in a giant pile of candy, but also candies children would rather not touch. One such candy is butterscotch. Maybe it's because the little yellow discs become so common that they'd rather reach for something chewy, something sour, something not yellow.

One night, not wanting the little darlings to go to waste, I decided to step in.

"You don't want 'em? I'll take 'em."

Thus began my love affair with butterscotch. When looking at a Halloween stash they really do tend to make more appearances than the Virgin Mary in Mexico. On this night of ghosts and heroes, I sweep in like a vulture towards a desert caravan eager to rid themselves of the believed lesser silk. Oh and it's mighty tasty.