Another Craigslist Missed Connections post
Subject: Sour Gummy Candy
The Homeland Formerly Known as Albertsons on 12th and Alameda is the only place I know to get them. Obnoxiously bright (clearly meant to appeal to people both high and tripping), packed full of acids (really? lactic, malic, and tartaric acids in addition to citric? Is that really necessary?), the squishy, sour delights explode in your mouth, more or less completely failing to taste like the package says they are flavored. (What does a lemonade rush taste like, anyway?)
I was pretty sure that I was the only person who buys them. That slot on the shelves is empty most of the time, as though it’s rarely restocked.
But there you were, your dark hair tied back, a black fedora perched on your head. In your hand you grasped the last package of Sour Patch Sour Gummy Xploderz–they’re too extreme for the letter s. They’re so extreme they don’t even need an E!
Our eyes met for just a moment, then you shoved the bag into your pocket and scuttled away.
I wanted to shout after you–“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, dude! I like them too!” But you were long gone, leaving me alone with the Trolli Sour Octopuses and the inferior Sour Dots.
I bought a box of Nerds to hit my sour candy sweet spot, instead. They are crunchy and cracklike.
I thought I saw you again, a couple of days later, at Walgreens, holding a couple of packages of Airheads Sour Belts. I hope you got the rainbow flavor–the lemonade ones taste like dish soap.
Anyway, I hope you see this. I found a place on the internet where we can buy ten pounds of Jelly Belly Sour Jelly Beans–maybe we could get together, rent a movie, and eat sour candy until we founder. They would find us the next morning, passed out in neon-candy drool, our stomachs distended from unnatural dyes and even more unnatural flavors. It’d be good times.