When I was a young child, I loved chocolate. I loved it so much – I’m pretty sure that M&M was my first word. Not only was I a chocolate lover, but I was a greedy little thing. One piece was not enough to satisfy me.
I had to have the whole bag. Christmas morning was the best but not because of the toys. It was because my little bear stocking from Kmart would be stuffed with all kinds of chocolate, and my parents had to make sure I did not eat half of it before Christmas lunch at Grandma’s.
Like all good parents, mine did not give me chocolate on a regular basis. It turned me into “Taz,” as in the ferocious, notoriously short tempered Tasmanian devil from Looney Toons. For a while, that was my nickname around the house, and it eventually became a part of my first ever email address, tazkid91.
Every once in a while though, my parents would treat me with some chocolate, usually as an indulgence or reward for being on my best behavior, which was rare. On one such occasion, my dad had taken my sister, cousin, and me to the convenience store – where we had cajoled him to buy us all a tube of M&M minis.
The minis were the best of all the M&Ms to me. The fun tube allowed me to practically drink them in only a couple sips. But there was a downside; the fun would not last long. It was in a matter of minutes before I had completely finished them.
Denying what I had done, I could not believe I had eaten the whole thing so quickly. There must be more in there. My sister and cousin still had half left. I would pop open the tube again, and alas, it would still be empty. I became angry.
“They should really put more M&Ms in there,” I thought. “Who would be satisfied with so little chocolate? I can’t be the only one who needs more!” But soon, I devised a greedy little plan to get more. My sister and cousin obviously did not need theirs. They would have eaten them already, if they did.
They had been playing outside, and I noticed that one of their tubes was lying on the dining room table. Excited that I had the opportunity to secretly snag more for myself, I opened the tube to find that there was only one lonely M&M left. I flung it back and started to grind it with my teeth. Something was wrong.
This chocolate was too gritty and tasted like dirt. In my haste, I had forgotten that they had been collecting pill bugs from the mud at a near-by ditch. This little terrestrial crustacean comes from the woodlouse family that can roll into a ball, giving it the accurate nickname roly-poly.
In the dark shadows of the tube, this creature looked uncanny to a brown M&M mini, which lead me to believe it was a good idea to put the bug in my mouth. This recollection came flooding into my head as I spit the roly-poly into my hand.
Immediately, I ran to the kitchen sink and turned the facet on full blast to wash my mouth and hands with clean water. While trying to make sure it was all gone and with a look of disgust on my face, I went to my dad to tell him of the unfortunate event I had brought upon myself.
Unsympathetic to my problem, he brushed it off, and I had to go outside and confirm what had just occurred with my sister and cousin. Sadly it was true, and I had just eaten a bug. M&Ms would never be the same, and this insignificant event in my family’s life has forever been branded in my memory.
– Kelsey Kitch, Editor