Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

There is only one time a year that my addiction is deemed socially acceptable. And by socially acceptable, I definitely mean only slightly less frowned upon than usual. “My name is Tori and I am a Cadbury creme egg addict.” Now this is the part where you all jointly raise your voices, “Hi Tori…”

I don’t know what it is about the chocolate shell filled with a creepy mixture of extremely viscous sugar died like the innards of an eggshell, but I need to eat them every Easter season. They don’t even follow the properties of matter. Is it a solid or a liquid in that chocolate shell? Because when I tilt it in my hand it definitely swirls around at the speed of my usual attempts at running.

I usually detest foods shaped like other foods. In fact, it might be said that I carry a phobia about such foods, but I still eat those damned eggs. Why? Why must I eat them and why did anyone ever invent them and who in their right mind would come up with that idea in the first place? Imagine that day in history.

John, or perhaps Benjamin,  Cadbury was a strange child who liked to tap a spoon around the edges of an eggshell, gently breaking the calcium until the shell’s cap came off and without disturbing the precious gold within. He would discard the cap carelessly because his true passion lay within the confines of the tiny treasure box he held in gentle fingertips. Making a small circular motion with his hand he watched the golden yolk float securely in a softly rolling transparent sea. He was transfixed. Looking up briefly from his hunched posture he scanned the room quickly to see if he was alone. With a dart of his tongue he wet his lips with excitement and snaked a pair of fingers through the lid to scoop out the egg.

“John” (or really, it could have been the name Benjamin that was screamed out)! “Just what do you think you’re doing with that egg?” A furious mother towered over the young boy as she swatted the egg from its swaying perch and it cascaded to the floor below. “William! He’s been in the eggs again.” Her rusty voice split through the moist air of the Birmingham estate until footsteps could be heard on the landing above as they descended in a weary plodding . Sigh.

Poor Cadbury boy. He must have had a sordid infatuation with eggs to have grown up and made an edible recreation. Why the fascination? And to recreate in such a realistic color scheme is almost disturbing, well that or genius. It brings to mind the adaptation of Willy Wonka that starred Johnny Depp. What traumatic childhood did this Cadbury boy go through to break out on his own and spend all his time developing candy eggs?

I am advised that the average student chooses a Cadbury egg over a chicken egg when paired up in studies 90% of the time.