PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,

Butterfingers

Butterfingers Nobody Likes Me

The very best Halloween candy out there is still, hands down, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I don't know who would even try to argue that, but I've heard a lot of crazy arguments recently so don't put it past someone.

I guess I'd give second place to Snickers, and after that it's a tossup. You got your 100 Grand, your M&Ms and your M&Ms with Peanuts. You got your Baby Ruth, your Milk Duds, your Junior Mints, your Kit Kat, and your Twix. All good, second/third tier candy bars. They're not Reese's, but they get the job done.

And you also got your Butterfingers.

Butterfingers aren't bottom-dwellers like Twizzlers, or Swedish Fish. They're not Neccos or Dots or – ack! – Almond Joy (hate coconut in candy bars). Butterfingers are legit. Yes, they splinter like old maple boards and probably are clogging your arteries. But even if they are reducing your lifespan, they are quite tasty.

Yet somehow, the kids who came to our street to Trick or Treat this year eschewed our Butterfingers. They wanted Reese's of course (we didn't have those because they don't make it past my mouth) but were willing to settle for Twix. Meanwhile, someone in our house had put out a new Reese's product called "Take 5" that I was told was awesome, with pretzels and peanuts and cheddar cheese or something inside. However, to be quite frank, Reese's will never be able to improve upon the Peanut Butter Cup. Still, this unnamed person thought they were so excellent that she held them back from the hoards of begging youths wandering our street, such that by 7:20 the only thing left to offer were the Butterfingers. No big deal.

When our doorbell rang and I brought out the bowl, there was a notable sigh of dismay from the ghouls and grim reapers at the door. One aggressive child grabbed a handful of Butterfingers and ran off, maybe to trade with someone who hadn't been clued it that Butterfingers were apparently poison. But the other two took one each and quietly left with their parents. And as I was closing the door, one said to his father, "I hate Butterfingers." 

Continue reading
  351 Hits

 

 

Daily Haiku

 

Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  

 

College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.

 

Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not

 

I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car

 

My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not

 

It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means

 

Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes

 

Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees

 

Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning

 

Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

Art Eating and Drinking The Old Days Mom and Dad BB King Big Shoes Zoom Soviet Union Weather Bill Monroe technology Hache Verde Me winter Brain Surgery Them Kids Cornhole star Music Brewing Audio Golf Guns and Ammo Things I've done Good Reads COVID-19 Putin Bands I've seen vacation Soccer Fiction Liz Phair Politics As Usual Quebect Coyotes The future Car Dealerships Real Estate Snow Guns My Parents Soul Coughing Skiing Bob Dylan Texting Mustard Barber Shops Soup 1980s Belgian Ales punk music Grass Skiing Biden Bands I've Seen Stairs Hurricanes nukes Reveillon Sports Email Peacekeeping Food Allergies Royal Stuff the sea Cats afterlife People I know Scotch and Sirloin cornhole Hawaii Martinis My sisters Spoon the band Syracuse Religion US Senate Dad advice Mike Doughty Emergencies Butterfingers Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Bunker Pats Football Chowder Vaughn NPR Climate Change NFL Marketing Gimmicks Short Fiction Head injuries midwinter vacations Ukraine Eclipse Beer Bands I haven't seen Theater Tom Waits Existential Crisis Earth Folk Music When I die Diseases weather Radiohead Hot Air Balloon Bodysurfing acerbic high school principal tambourrine Sugarbush Ice Dancing town square Hand Planes Audubon Bar Red Sox Trump Bicycles seasons Elvis Presley Europe Masks Spice Girls Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde the future Work My grandparents War and Peace Motorists Joan Jett Canadiana Knots Godfather My Estate Christmas The Future Mass General Hospital Rock Bands Boston Communication Channels Roommates I've Had Candy Drumming Halloween Teeth coronavirus Vaccines soapbox rantings Wind COVID Ticketmaster Skating China TV College New England The Past Canada Ketchup Bikes First World Problems plan mid-winter vacations gathering throngs Stories I should write baseball Smoke Meat Advertising Accounting Plastic Higher Education curling shoes Imaginings high winds Yeast Rabbit Hole Cars