Home > Life, Would I Lie? > Candy Scam at Florida State Fair!

Candy Scam at Florida State Fair!

lie1I’m considering filing a lawsuit against the Florida State Fair for contributing to the dental delinquency of me and a bunch of other hapless sugar addicts by placing the “Candy Warehouse” right inside the doorway of Entrance One.

There before us, gleaming like a crack den to a desperate junkie, was the aforementioned Candy Warehouse. A peek through the curtain revealed a wonderland of “penny” candy like Smarties, Jawbreakers, Mary Jane’s, Bullseyes, gumballs of every imaginable kind, even those little wax cola bottles and the candydotsonthepaper and Valentine hearts and…. I began to sweat and my heart beat wildly in my chest… that should have been my first sign of imminent danger but I couldn’t stop myself…

We entered this Wonkaland of sucrose, this Candyland of gooey, gummy, yummy, poisoness venom-filled nirvana — and it was too late. I had strapped the rubber tube around my sweet tooth and felt my tastebuds become engorged as I made my way through the winding aisle.

It was like a maze, with people filing in behind you so you couldn’t change your mind and leave; the insidious draw of each box filled to overflowing, set like individual teeth in a giant jawbone made it impossible not to just take “a few” of each kind. The floor beneath me began to feel soft and squishy like a giant lollipop-licking  tongue. My own basket heaped up and I used my usual rationalization that I was “buying it for all my friends”…. bulls*#t…. I knew it was all for me. I knew I would gorge myself until the blood that flowed through my body was sweet enough to satisfy a honey bee. You could put a tap in my side and boil my blood down to pure crystalline sugar. My teeth ached with dread, dollar signs popped up in my dentist’s eyes, but the worst was yet to come….

The cash register. That clanging, ringing cavity of financial destruction waiting to be filled with my hard-earned lucre, and with only $20 in my pocket, I stared it down with the confidence of a hopped-up druggie, ready to pick it up and heave it across the exhibition building if it dared tell me anything I didn’t want to hear.

I had a second chance to escape right then and there. The girl ahead of me poured her basket onto the scale. I estimated that she had about the same quantity I did. When it rang up at $31.24, she froze, turned, and stalked off because she didn’t have the money, leaving the whole pile behind. The woman behind the register dumped it into a box that was rapidly filling with others’ rejects.

I could have done the same, could have just dropped my basket and walked away. Instead I said sheepishly to the cashier, “Uh…do you take…credit cards?” She said, “Nope! Cash only!” Instead of offloading some of my excess, I called out to Mama Nance: “I need more money!”, and she came forward like a pusher, ready to plunge the needle into my eager vein.

Dammit! $32.75 later, I was trying to navigate the fair and all its debauchery with 5-10 pounds of candy in plastic shopping bags in each hand as they twisted off the circulation in my fingers and smacked against passers-by. I felt buyer’s remorse immediately. I was like an alcoholic who had just bought a half-gallon of cheap vodka in the plastic bottle, vowing that this would be the last time. I promised to make this batch last, but only days later, it is almost half gone. I have indeed shared with my little kid friends and delivered the 1/2 pound of Good’n’Plenty to my friend, K. I think of throwing the rest out, wasting $20.00, but I don’t. I think to have Mama Nance hide it from me but know I would then spend as much time as it took ransacking the house, looking for my “score”.

So I am holding the Florida State Fair responsible for aiding and abetting the destruction of my teeth, my health and my relationships.

“My name is Ellen and I’m a Sucraholic.” Hi, Ellen! Keep coming back! It works if you work it! One day at a time!” Yeah, bite me, all ye of ideal incisors, beautiful bicuspids, mint molars, and original orthodontia!

Soon I will be forced to consume the Candy of Last Resort — Gummy Bears. Like smokers who continue to light up even in the presence of combustible oxygen tanks, I will probably lie there dying with not a tooth in my head and an imploded pancreas, begging for just-one-more-hit…

If it please the court, I would ask that you masticate on my completely frivilous lawsuit and shut down the CANDY WAREHOUSE before good people like me are left homeless, penniless, and toothless from our inability to recover from our addiction to “penny” (my ass!) candy….

Damn you, Candy Warehouse, DAMN YOU TO HELL!!

(Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only. Any expectation of actual legal action should be discounted. )

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Categories: Life, Would I Lie?
  1. Mama Nance
    February 11, 2009 at 5:14 pm

    I’m doing my best and helping you out with the Smarties !!!!

  2. February 11, 2009 at 9:09 pm

    Um, can I come over and play… and maybe have a root beer barrel and a mint julep? They just don’t make candy like that anymore.

  3. February 11, 2009 at 9:18 pm

    Ah, but sadly they DO make candy like that anymore! But I’ll put aside a RB barrel just for you…

  4. Kathy S
    February 11, 2011 at 7:21 pm

    You get caught by Candy Warehouse, for me it’s the place that sells fried dough! I don’t go to the Cheshire Fair anymore and won’t set foot at Eastern States Expo for fear of that and the kettle corn place, too!

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