The Cadbury Creme Crisis

Yesterday I slipped off into dusky darkness of night for a secretly planned covert mission. The date was April 10th, two days past Easter Sunday. The mission: seek out and acquire discounted Easter candy still sitting on store shelves. Mission status: unconfirmed.

I’m sure you are all aware of the wondrous joys of the varying Easter Day candies out there. There’s everything from sugary peeps to sweet flavored jellybeans to milk chocolate bunnies. But I wasn’t there for any of that. This particular assignment had me looting for the very best in Easter candies. The royalty of the chocolate realm. That’s right, the Cadbury Egg.

There is something regal about the thick chocolate coating and the smooth creamy inside goodness of a Cadbury Crème Egg. It’s chocolate and sugar and… and well that’s pretty much all there is. But what more could you want? As far as I’m concerned Cadbury Eggs are by and large the top of the line not only when it comes to Easter candies, but any kind of confectionary at all. It’s just that damn good.

So now you see why I was lurking around local grocery store yesterday. I need me some sugar-happy awesomeness. And unfortunately, I wasn’t able to feed my sugar addiction. I don’t know if you can tell, but my hands are shaking at the keyboard even now when I type this. The store was out of Cadbury Eggs. The bastards didn’t have any left. Oh sure, they had all sorts of other sugar related sweets, but I didn’t want any of those second rate Easter goodies.

I need to get one thing off my chest right here and now, while I’m still frustrated and unsatisfied enough to think it’s actually important. To be perfectly honest with you, I’m not all that partial to peeps. I mean, seriously, what the hell is up with peeps? I swear the things taste like chalk. They’re supposedly sugar covered marshmallows in interesting shapes, but I always found them to be more of an insult to my digestive system. If I ruled the world, I’d put peeps on a banned list of foods that could never be served. It would be right up there on the list right next to refried beans. Hey, if you grew up with my brother, you wouldn’t want to see refried beans on the table ever again.

Oh, there were plenty of those peeps there at the grocery store, that’s for sure. They were there in assorted colors, shapes, and flavors. Apparently chalk has differently flavors now. There’s regular sugar flavored chalk, chocolate flavored chalk, and some sort of mint flavored chalk as well. Have you noted my complete and utter disdain for what I consider the redheaded step child of Easter candies? Good. Let’s move on then. (I still think they taste like chalk, damn it!)

I realize that Easter is a holy holiday of sorts and all I have so far only talked about candy. That may have something to do with my thriving need for chocolate coated sugar goo, or it may be that I don’t have a whole grasp on this “Easter” thing. Now, I’ve never been a religious person and I don’t go to church. I’m fairly certain this means I’m going to burn in hell for my sins, or whatever equivalent afterlife awaits me. But that’s ok, I’ve more than come to terms with that. Keeping all that in mind, I have come up with my own interpretation of what the true meaning of this Sunday holiday is all about.

So Jesus died on a Friday and they now call that Good Friday. Why someone would deem it necessary to name the day Good Friday to celebrate the torture and death of their lord and savior, I will never know. Easter is supposed to take place on the third day of the death of Jesus whenhe mysteriously rose from the dead, exited his tomb without moving the giant stone covering the door, and began to pass out chocolates and painted eggs to all of the little boys and girls.

Ok, so I know this isn’t 100% correct. Back in 33AD they hadn’t quite discovered chocolate yet. Chances are, the reborn Christ was passing out shoots of sugarcane instead. I think it might be important to note right here that I have never actually read the Bible. I hear it’s a very popular book and has been translated into more languages than any other literate work, but in my defense: it's a really really big book. Can you actually expect me to read that whole thing? Though, I have heard good things about the parts with the smiting and the hailing bits of fire and brimstone and whatnot. Now that does sound like an exciting read.

Maybe Jesus didn’t pass out sugar and colored eggs. Maybe he truely did rise into heaven to join his Father. Or maybe some grave robbers came and stole his body in the intervening time. Honestly, I don’t know, I wasn’t there. And neither were you, so don’t go trying to correct me. What I do know is that about 2000 years ago a man died. His hands were staked into a wooden cross and he was hung up and left to perish. Now, two millennia later, I get to eat Cadbury Crème Eggs in his memory. And for that, I am eternally thankful. That Jesus guy is ok with me.

Of course, right now I am noticeably without my Cadbury Egg in all its gooey goodness and sweet, sugary splendor. That’s ok though. Today is another day. I will reactivate my mission and go on my convert prowl once again for my coveted prize. It’s nearly the same as your kids looking around the yard and the house for hidden eggs on Easter morning. The only perceptible difference is that I’m willing to stab someone in order to get my egg. Nothing matters except the egg. Not sleep, not work, not money nor health. I will get my egg.

As you can see, I’m going slightly mad with the mere thought of it. So I’d best be on my way. Although, it just occurred to me that as of this minute, I crave that damn egg more than I crave sex. And let’s be honest here, as a 23 year old male, sex is an absolute necessity. I guess it’s best not to dwell on that fact. The sooner I get a Cadbury Egg in my mouth, the sooner my desire is satiated.

If you happen to know of a place in the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill area that one might be able to procure said delectable chocolate coated egg, please, don’t hesitate to contact me. I will do anything it takes to get my hands on one, and I do mean anything. (Note: the word “anything” in this context does not actually encompass all forms of conduct. The author reserves the right to define the word “anything” in this context as “sex with a beautiful woman” or “sex with two beautiful women” or “lounging in a large hot tub, drinking extravagant wines, eating only the finest of foods, and smoking a Cuban cigar, while having sex with two beautiful women” whenever he deems fit. The author is also not responsible for any loss of limbs to any bystanders while he is in hunt for the currently elusive Cadbury Crème Egg. Void where prohibited. All rights reserved.)