Yesterday, I went malling with Joyce and Nikki. Most of it was negligible, following girls around in shopping mode. At one point in Victoria's Secret I wanted to scream "Retreat!" and knock over the "Panties: 3 for $25" box in front of me to distract the females while the other prisoners of war... er... males... made their escape.
Some point later, there were Pretzels. Big, hot, chewy. So I was okay again.But one thing happened that day that I'll never forget, the kind of thing that's only epic when you're 5 years old, or can remember what being 5 was like. The 3 of us were wandering around in the Sweet Factory, picking things, scooping them into our bags. I saw a bin that said "American Gummi Bears" and instantly looked next to it, for my precious Imported Gummis. Chewier, harder, with richer, subtler flavors. Weren't there. "They don't have imported!" I mumbled to Nikki. She gave me an odd look, because, well, she didn't understand. Ignorant in the ways of Gummi. Then from behind the counter, I saw the Candyman looking at me, evaluating me, sizing me up. "You want imported? I've got some imported..." He grinned at me conspiratorially, then quietly wandered into "The Back", returning with a large tupperware full of my sweet gelatinous ambrosia. He took a full scoop and dug it in, and as I held out my bag like a child at halloween, he smiled and dropped the full scoop into my bag. It was as though I had passed some test, answered a riddle that nobody had asked. And all of the sudden, I had the hookups. Me and the Candy guy, man, we were like this. And my prize? Sweet Euro Crack: Imported Gummi Bears. -ALex
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