Almond Joy? More like Almond Sad
As the festivities of Halloween come to a close, we find our subject, an Almond Joy candy, left forgotten at the bottom of his child’s candy bag. He is no stranger to this life. After going uneaten, he must endure the annual humiliation of being given away on the following Halloween, being passed on to child after child, for he is never wanted in anyone’s home. The endless cycle of fleeting hope and crushing rejection never gets easier for our unfortunate Almond Joy.
This year, it was third grader Henry Dunaway who happened upon the Almond Joy while trick-or-treating. He spotted him, surrounded by hard candies, alone. Although Dunaway has never had a particular liking for either type of candy, he chose the perceived better of the two, the Almond Joy, since he would have felt guilty for inspecting then rejecting a house’s offerings. When Dunaway returned home, he dumped his candy onto the floor and began sorting it into groups. The Almond Joy searched in vain for others of his kind, but all he found was his nutless alternative, who was quickly picked up and consumed in front of him. Watching Dunaway go to Mound Town made our Almond Joy feel especially ashamed of his milk chocolate and nut. He wonders why different parts of him seem to target different consumers. Milk chocolate is for kids, but kids don’t like nuts; adults like nuts, but they prefer dark chocolate. The Almond Joy woefully considers what he could have done wrong and why he can’t just fit in with the other candies.
Now, the Almond Joy spends his days in a post-Halloween purgatory, wallowing in sorrow while listening to the sounds of Dunaway enjoying other, more appealing candies that have fulfilled their worldly duties. He tries to stave off the jealousy by telling himself that he just hasn’t found the right child yet. Soon, he imagines, a special child will take him home and savor every morsel of his body. Deep down, however, the Almond Joy knows that he will forever suffer a life of getting pushed aside. Touched, but never held. Each day, he is mocked by his own name. Almond Joy. Where’s the joy, he thinks. He desperately wants to live up to society’s expectations of him as a cheerful, lighthearted candy, but how can he do so while constantly being reminded of his own failure?
This poor Almond Joy’s story should remind everyone, especially during the holiday season, that your candy has needs. Real needs. Don’t abandon your candy, leaving it to ruminate in its wrapper year after year. I implore everyone to locate your loneliest Almond Joy and bring it out of its misery today.
Written by Sarah Palazzo and Emmy Pratt