Danger in the Aisle

There’s always something going on in the world. Out there where troubles are many and pleasures are few. But yesterday it occurred to me that there’s a phenomenon happening right under our noses and it’s by and large being ignored by all and sundry. Including – or – maybe especially – what’s happening in the world of . . . marshmallows.

I am serious, people. Hubby and I had a date yesterday after lunch. We breezed down towards Hudson so he could hit Lowe’s and I could do some damage in Walmart. Big store Walmart, right? But I made my way through and as I strolled down the really- bad- for- you snack food aisle I spotted them. Third shelf down – a small box containing cello bags of Campfire mini marshmallows. Maybe twenty in each bag and only thirty nine cents. I’d never seen such a thing. They were all in pastels, too – so cute.

But as I lifted the little bag I felt something looming above my left shoulder. Big Brother Marshmallow. I peered cautiously upwards and gasped. You should see these things. Giant bags full of marshmallow rectangles. That’s right, rectangles. These were Kraft and I think the K would have grabbed my nose if I’d gotten any closer. But, get this, these were made just for s’mores. Yup, especially made. It crossed my mind that they would make perfect little squirrel pillows. We have a whole family of them that scamper out of the trees for puppy chow and breadcrumbs every morning. Scrappy rascals. But these plump marshmallow rectangles could be their very own sweet version of My Pillow (don’t’ tell Mike Lindel!). On the other hand they might stick to the sides of their furry little heads as they snoozed. Did I want to face an army of irate squirrely bobs the next morning – you know – with a marshmallow pillow all gobbed to their fur and making inroads towards the armpits? Probably not.  

Next to the s’mores rectangles there were s’mores marshmallows, much smaller, with a chocolate component. No need for that candy bar. It’s all right there in the bag. To the right of those were marshmallows shaped like ice cream cones. The ice cream part was green. Probably mock pistachio or lime (ICK). Soon my head was spinning and I had to come up for air. I looked around real quick to see if Willy Wonka was watching me. Rumor has it that he’s got a whole world of hurt in store for marshmallow gluttons.

I grabbed the cart handle, took a deep breath and pulled away from the pillows, cones and s’mores. I have to tell you, I barely made it out. The K hissed at my back. On the way home I kept real quiet, but when hubby began spewing politics I almost hugged him right then and there while he drove. It felt so normal.

Politics is rough these days, but nowhere near as dangerous as the really- bad- for-  you snack food aisle at Walmart. This morning as I write about it I’m just thanking the good Lord above that I got out alive. Wouldn’t you?

PS: I did, however, buy the novelty item you see in the picture. But it was over in Valentine candy, a much safer place to be.