We got a bad bag of Twizzlers at the grocery store, and I’m a little bit upset.
The problem isn’t the quality, or the freshness, or the taste, or even the price.
It’s that they are, well, they are all twisted up. Some lazy Twizzler stuffer stuffed those Twizzlers in the bag all willy-nilly. They are not in neat rows, ready to be peeled from the giant sticky blob of Twizzlers one at a time. It’s like the Twizzlers were twizzled into knots.
|This is offensive.|
So that when I am sneaking a Twizzler or two (or five, if I’m being real), I have to remove all the Twizzlers from the bag to get one out without ripping it into pieces, which is noisy and makes it harder to sneak, and therefore I must share with my children, who are candy pigs with supernatural candy-bag-opening senses.
|This has me in a twizzy. |
Sorry about that.
I guess what I’m confessing here is not how much this current Twizzlers predicament annoys me, nor that I hate sharing candy with my children, but I
eat buy so many Twizzlers that I know when I’ve got a bad bag.