It's the candy that I love.
One candy in particular.
My favorite, in fact.
Sweettart Hearts.
I'm an addict.
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My latest voyage to the doctor revealed that my body is made up of 80 percent water, 10 percent slurpee, and 10 percent sweet tart hearts. I'm surprised the sweet tart number was so low. Especially considering my goal for the last six years has been to eat eat 5,000 of the shapes during their two weeks of availability. Or for my tongue to actually disintegrate from all the sour acids. I'll accept either result.
My earliest memory of the tart hearts comes from my 1st grade Valentine's Day candy exchange. I was disgusted. How could I eat a candy that contained provocative messages like "Be mine", "Kiss Me", and "I'm Yours"? I couldn't and I didn't. It wasn't until the 2nd grade that I decided candy consumption was worth the risk of cootie infection. I ate the tarts, messages and all. Love was born.
Like most loves, mine almost killed me once. 215 tarts were in my stomach, 25 were traveling down my throat, and another 25 were being pulverized in my mouth. That's when I laughed.
Sidenote: Sweettart hearts are the perfect size for clogging one's throat and restricting breathing.
A pull-up bar saved my life. I guess the act of stretching my body while swinging on the bar opened up my tubes and allowed the tart to pass through.That or God wanted to keep me alive so I could keep feeding the economy with my bulk sweettart purchases. Either way it felt good to breathe again
The greatest sweettart related memory? I once obtained 20 bags of the goods at a reduced price, allowing the sweettart consumption to go on for seven months rather than the usual two week stint. How I miss you, February through August 2008 ...
I'm sorry to have bored you with these tales, reader. But trust me, you had to be informed, for in the unlikely case that you are secretly in love with me, you now know exactly what to get me on the 14th.
Your obsession with the tarts is my favorite thing about you.
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