In the wild, animals forage for food. Squirrels dart about collecting nuts, hiding them away for times of future famine. In the kitchen, I too make my rounds. When all are asleep, I descend the stairs and make my way to the pantry. Silently opening the door and inserting my hand, I search for food. Popcorn is a usual target, but the white crackly crumbs tend to reveal my presence. Pretzels are nice, but not my favorite nighttime food. Generally, I favor candy.
To my dismay, I was thwarted this weekend. As I crammed my arm onto the shelf that generally holds the nuts, my fingers were delighted to find hard, round, little candies. The bag that held the treasures certainly felt promising—it had the distinct crinkling crackle of a m&m package. As I withdrew my fist filled of candy, I was surprised. The orbs were spherical and larger than usual. In a moment of hysteria, I imagined them each to be little peanut m&ms. Greedily, I thrusted the fistful into my mouth and began to masticate. Soon enough, a terrible horror betrayed itself. These were no peanut m&ms. These were pretzel m&ms. Perhaps, dipped in chocolate peanut butter these so called candies may regain their flavor. But consumed as packaged, they are no more than dry, disappointing rat droppings