PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

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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." 

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