jujube
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Remember getting Whitman's Samplers for Christmas?
My uncle would send us a huuuuge three-pound box every year. We kids were allowed to have ONE.PIECE.A.DAY. Of course, one had to make sure that one's piece was the RIGHT piece, yes? There was a chart showing what was what, but stuff got moved around and you weren't always sure that the piece you thought you had was the piece you actually had. And there would be nothing worse than biting into what you thought was a dark chocolate mousse and it turned out to be lemon crème or even worse.....maple.
So, being the uncivilized little savages we were, we'd poke the back of the chocolate first to see what was inside. Sometimes, if the Devil took over, we'd lick out the filling and eat that, leaving the chocolate shell for the next unsuspecting visitor to the box.
Visitors would stop by and Mom would proffer the box of chocolates...."have a piece"! (You'd think she'd learn, wouldn't you, as we did THE.SAME.THING.EVERY.YEAR. The visitor would choose a piece and quite often find someone had already been there. My mom would then swear that we were never going to get chocolates again, but the whole thing would start over again the next year.
Of course we always tried to sneak some extra pieces, too. And we'd rat each other out about it. I remember one of my sisters sidling over to my mom and saying, "_________ took another piece of chocolate and ate it in the bathroom." Mom asked how she knew, and the sister said, "She has chocolate on her breath." Oh, my.....damning evidence.
My uncle would send us a huuuuge three-pound box every year. We kids were allowed to have ONE.PIECE.A.DAY. Of course, one had to make sure that one's piece was the RIGHT piece, yes? There was a chart showing what was what, but stuff got moved around and you weren't always sure that the piece you thought you had was the piece you actually had. And there would be nothing worse than biting into what you thought was a dark chocolate mousse and it turned out to be lemon crème or even worse.....maple.
So, being the uncivilized little savages we were, we'd poke the back of the chocolate first to see what was inside. Sometimes, if the Devil took over, we'd lick out the filling and eat that, leaving the chocolate shell for the next unsuspecting visitor to the box.
Visitors would stop by and Mom would proffer the box of chocolates...."have a piece"! (You'd think she'd learn, wouldn't you, as we did THE.SAME.THING.EVERY.YEAR. The visitor would choose a piece and quite often find someone had already been there. My mom would then swear that we were never going to get chocolates again, but the whole thing would start over again the next year.
Of course we always tried to sneak some extra pieces, too. And we'd rat each other out about it. I remember one of my sisters sidling over to my mom and saying, "_________ took another piece of chocolate and ate it in the bathroom." Mom asked how she knew, and the sister said, "She has chocolate on her breath." Oh, my.....damning evidence.