So Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are delicious. Really delicious.
Ask any kid dressed up for Halloween whether he’d rather have a Reese’s or a Snickers; I’ll bet you a dollar which one he’d choose.
Now because they’re so delicious, most of us are willing to put forth the extra effort to penetrate the double wrapper. First, one plunges through that outside orange covering, and next, one must muster the strength to move forward and further remove that brown, waxy paper stuff stuck to the Cup’s bottom.
Tonight, a group of friends were gathered munching on the little baby “fun size” Cups (whoever came up with that inaccurate adage “fun size” should be hung upside down by their toenails, by the way … or at least publicly humiliated. How could having less candy be more fun? Come on people!). Small, yes, but still delish.
Mike was aggravated, understandably, because his little Cup had an extra little brown wrapper on the bottom. So after cutting through the tinfoil outer wrapper like a champ, he struggled to get the next brown paper off only to find his forays foiled. Another wrapper!
But he took to the task, wrestled it off, and enjoyed the peanut buttery choclatey-ness to the full.
Whew. Tiresome work.
But it turns out that Mike’s endeavor was simple compared to the feat ahead of our good friend, Scott Weirich. Later in the evening, he snagged a mini Cup out of the bag, possibly a bit twitterpated at the possibility within … see, this particular Cup was a bit bigger in size than its smaller brothers.
“Aha!” he probably thought. “A big ‘fun size’ Cup!”
Little did he know that his hopes were doomed. He began to unwrap:
Tinfoil: gone.
Brown, waxy layer: gone.
Second brown, waxy layer: gone.
Third, fourth, fifth brown, waxy layers: gone.
Sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth brown waxy layers: gone.
Eleventh brown, waxy layer: gone.
And there, behold, the prize. A normal, fricking “fun sized” Cup.
Somebody get that man a medal. And perhaps a Band Aid for his aching and exhausted fingers.
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