Wal-Mart is more satanic than Hell could ever be. In fact, even in this time of economic despair, I was on a hunt for some cool little trinkets to throw in my niece and nephew’s Easter baskets. Wal-Mart is a slimeball salesman, hair greased back, with a shit eatin’ grin. Walking through the aisles of Wal-Mart is like stopping by a garage sale that you had no idea was even going on. I don’t need anything at that garage sale but for some God awful reason I walk away from it with a handful of junk I didn’t need or even knew I wanted. What was intended to be a quick trip to the store for Easter candy turned into a rapid free fall into a hellish vacuum of consumerism.
Easter Candy Explosion! A Pictorial
When it comes to buying things I don’t need, I wouldn’t feel as bad to buy…oh, say…a back issue of a comic book line. If I finally come across an old back issue of Teen Titans that’s eluded me for years, I would snatch that book up in milliseconds. If the object fills a certain void or purpose then I have no problem justifying the item as a “must have.” On the other hand, what you are about to see are items that no man with hair on his chest could ever justify actually shelling out money for. After nearly $150 bucks it was completely out of hand.
One question though…
What would you do if you saw these 3 crazy/wacky flavors of Whoppers staring you down? I was immediately paralyzed with an obsession to make these mine. I knew they would taste like shit, but for some reason, all I could picture was me in an empty Wal-Mart laughing and giggling as I submerged in 650,000,000 pastel colored whopper malt balls. These suckers were pouring out at me through the roof, from the laundry detergent aisle, and from the creepy end of the store where they keep hoses and Christmas trees all year round.
Keep in mind folks that there wasn’t even an iota of a fraction of a chance that these would be any good at all. I was walking into a disaster and I knew it. A dog crap flambe would probably taste nicer than the disgustingly sweet Vanilla Whopper. Pepto Bismol may as well release an orange cream flavor since they could just rip the recipe right off of the Orange Cream Whopper carton. These Whoppers should feature a “Missing” ad on the side of the carton: “MISSING: ORIGINAL WHOPPERS THAT ACTUALLY TASTE GOOD…YOU KNOW THE ONES…THE ONES THAT BURN THE SKIN OFF THE INSIDE OF YOUR MOUTH IF YOU SUCK ON THEM BALLS FOR TOO LONG.”
And the Blueberry, what an astonishing fucking joke they are. Imagine for a second that original Whoppers were artificially inseminated by the sperm of a pastel Easter bunny. Their offspring would be Blueberry Whoppers, and let’s just say Grandpa Whoppery isn’t too pleased with his gay grandson. He’s always off dancing at the Blue Oyster and talking about how he wants to get into a civil union with another Blue “Bear” Whopper. With a clear mind I can hereby declare that Blueberry Whoppers are THEEEE worst variety in the Whopper Malt Ball candy line. It has nothing to do with them being gay either. Hell, our former governor was a Blueberry Whopper.
This green marshmallow mess was staring me down from the shelf because it knew that I just love to torture the shit out of these stupid holiday marshmallows. This poor guy didn’t stand a chance. As far as I’m concerned I gave him a nice makeover. I tore his big, dumb ears off with my ferocious, Sabretooth-esque teeth. Off with his silly bow tie! In a matter of seconds, Baby Binks was middle aged, balding, bow tie-less, and stressed out.
Russell Stover is taking the whole Marshmallow Rabbit to another level. Next thing you know they’ll be coating actual rabbits with milk chocolate. In a way, I’m glad because at least this chocolate mess actually looks like a rabbit unlike some of it’s predecessors. Of course, that would be in a Donnie Darko, demonic, talisman looking rabbit sorta way.
I decided to turn him upside down just for fun. For the life of me, I couldn’t put my finger on who he reminded me of. Until…DING…DING!!! It came at me like a fatal blow from a ‘roided up Russian…
Happy Easter everyone! Heed my warning: It wasn’t the fruit that was forbidden, it was all the unnecessary crap that fills the shelves at your local Wal-Mart.