Every once in a while, I’ll indulge in candy. When I was a kid, my friend Sadie and I used to comb her entire house for loose change to spend at the little store down the street, and we’d stock up on just about every delicious candy we could wrangle for the average $2.13 we’d dig up. These days, I’m an adult, dammit. I can buy what I want. YOU’RE NOT MY MOM.
Last week, I bought a big bag of Skittles, because DUH. And I realized that I will go full Pony Boy with a switchblade if you ask for a couple of my Skittles at the wrong time.
You see, I’m seldom particularly OCD unless it comes to editing or candy. I’m a pretty cluttered person, and I’m less bothered by disorganization than the average bear. That said, when it comes to a few things, I’m full on compulsive. And I have reasons, yo. When I’m critiquing someone’s work, that’s something that’s important to them, and therefore intensely important to me. So I’m going to look for everything I possibly can. When it comes to delicious candy, though, my motives are just plain selfish.
So here’s an easy peasy timeline to let you know when it’s okay to ask me for a couple rainbow-touched Skittles.
At this point, you can have some. I’ve probably just opened that bag up and started the anticipation sequence of allowing my saliva to pool. Hell, I’ll probably be downright generous. Go nuts. Take a handful.
If you put your hand out now, you might get a raised eyebrow. I’ve already weeded out the oranges, which are my least favorite flavor (though still yummy). However, if you ask at this point, I’ll respect that you didn’t wait another five minutes.
If you’ve waited this long to ask me hopefully if you can enjoy some of my delicious Skittles, you’re going to get the laser eye of death from me. If you haven’t noticed my system yet, take heed. There are only three colors left, and I save the best for last. Before, there was a 3/5 chance your handful would consist mostly of the ones I am okay parting with. Now we’re down to the good stuff, and my sharing capabilities are quickly reverting from grown-up to toddler.
If you wait this long and so much as reach for my Skittles, I’ma slap your hand. I’ve been painstakingly sorting these for approximately fifteen minutes now. I’m at the point where painstaking becomes savoring. You’re gonna mess with that?
No. Just…no. Nobody touches my red Skittles when all the others are gone. It’s like you’ve been eating the edges around your round of watermelon, waiting to enjoy that tender, sweet, delicious center only to have someone come by and spear it with a fork and pop it into her mouth. Or that filet mignon you just paid $25 bucks for and have waited to get to that perfect, juicy, medium rare bite…and the cat swipes it off your plate and into the dog’s mouth.
If I’ve gotten this far, just go get your own pack. I won’t ask you for any.
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