Written by Madame Bitters
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Sunday, 18 October 2009

image for My Candy Shoppe We have licorice at my candy shoppe too. Along with the meth, of course.

I've often wondered what my life would be like if I opened a candy shoppe.

Fucking awesome is how it would be!

My candy shoppe would be in a small town on Main Street, USA. You know the kind I mean- the street is clean and free of potholes and speed bumps. Stately trees line the street and the sidewalks are free of litter and homeless people.

My candy shoppe would be little bit seperated from the other shops on this street.

Why?

Because my candy shoppe would make the neighboring shops seem pathetic in comparison. It would just be unfair.

While my candy shoppe might be set back from the other shops, but people would come to it just the same. Why? Certainly not because of tacky billboards, advertisments bus stop benches and cheesy TV commercials!

My candy shoppe would prosper through word of mouth advertising alone. It would be that good.

People would also be drawn to it because of the aroma of candy being made from scratch. People would wander into my little candy shoppe, which would be in a cute little white clapboard house with dark green shutters.

Upon entering my candy shoppe a little bell would chime, welcoming the customer into a candy heaven.

We would have candy of all kinds; big, swirly lollipos, gum drops, jawbreakers, all kinds of fudge, chocolate dipped marshmallows and cookies, pieces of chocolate (dark, milk and white) in every size and shape imagineable, carmels, butterscotch and saltwater taffy.

Saltwater taffy is hard to find these days, but we have it at my candy shoppe.

Why?

Because it's good, that's why!

Manning the counter would be Hans, a fat Belgian man with a strong accent and a booming laugh. Hans would have rosy cheeks, a big, red walrus moustache and a shiny bald head.

He'd take care of the customers while I (and several illegal immigrants) would make the candy that my shoppe is so famous for.

Oh, Hans would be a jolly, jovial man who genuinely loved people and candy, but not necessarily in that order.

In fact, he would actually be a lot like Santa Claus, but instead of toys, he has candy and he can work a cash register. And he wouldn't wear a red suit, but a red and white striped apron.

Hans works the front counter because he's nice and he's Belgian and everyone knows that Belgium is the chocolate capital of the world. People can trust Belgians in matters of choclate.

They also make good waffles, but since my candy shoppe doesn't sell waffles it's not important. In fact, I don't know why I even mentioned it.

Yes, my chocolate shoppe is the type of place where children who come to it now will one day reminice with their grandkids about a magical place that sold the best candy that they'd ever had in their long, long lives.

It would also be a cover for a meth lab, because that's where the big money's at.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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