THE BLOG
10/14/2014 04:46 pm ET Updated Dec 14, 2014

The Cravin': A Frightful Halloween Candy Confessional

Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz

I spied the first bags on our grocery store's shelves in early September. Maybe even late August.

Halloween Hershey Bars. Halloween Skittles. And my particular Kryptonite, Halloween Kit Kats.

Do they really need to start stocking it that early? Yes, apparently. In 2014, Halloween candy sales are expected to top $2.5 billion. So no doubt flaunting it in the faces of weak-willed sugar fiends like me pays off handsomely.

I've tried to resist. I've strategically planned my shopping route to avoid that sinister "seasonal" aisle at all costs, only to be thwarted by diabolical end cap displays throughout the entire store. I've even resorted to buying "dud" candy -- Mary Janes and Tootsie Rolls -- much to my kids' (and my neighborhood's) dismay.

But to no avail.

For nothing's off-limits when my sweet tooth's on the rampage. Mid-October always finds me gobbling handfuls of the goodies meant for the littlest goblins, leaving my cabinets bare and forcing me back to the store to buy more.

Consequently, each Halloween I have to invent a new way to deal with my despicable actions in the aftermath. Last year, I found someone else to blame for the disappearing treats. This year, though, my shameful sweet obsession may just have to... give up the ghost.

THE CRAVIN'
(with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)

LATE OCTOBER, in my kitchen: for some sugar I was itchin'
and I knew that satisfaction lay behind my pantry door.
Though I should be upstairs sleeping, here I was, downstairs, creeping
'round my kitchen, no one peeping as I tiptoed 'cross the floor.
Nothing stirring, just me creaking, sneaking softly 'cross the floor
for one Kit Kat, nothing more.

Ah, how happy and how handy to have bags of bits of candy
tucked inside each nook and cranny after purchase from the store.
Bought but not meant to be eaten, bought for kids for trick or treatin',
bought for goblins who come knocking, trick or treating at my door.
Gobs of candy here so handy stored behind my pantry door-
Oh, those Kit Kats I adore!

All those candies so fantastic bulging from their bags of plastic
thrilled me -- filled me with a crazy craving that I'd felt before.
So that now, to satisfy it, I ignored my sweet-free diet
and let appetite run riot, scarfing Kit Kats by the score.
I let appetite run riot, crunching Kit Kats by the score,
till the bag held nothing more.

STILL my craving grew much stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Time," said I, "to raid my other sweet- and treat-filled reservoir."
For the fact is when I'm craving chocolate candy I've been saving,
you can bet that I'll be caving -- misbehaving -- that's for sure.
So for new treats I went seeking, sneaking to a closet door:
"Just a few treats, nothing more."

Deep into that closet peering, long I stood there perservering,
craving, raving for the chocolates that lay waiting by the score:
Kit Kat, Krackle, even Skor bars -
Hershey's, Twix and many more bars,
one by one, they disappeared as through the bulging bags I tore.
Milky Ways, Three Musketeers -- their wrappers spilled upon the floor.
Then: just wrappers, nothing more.

Back upstairs I started heading, something deep within me dreading
what I'd have to tell my kids and those who'd knock upon my door.
What excuses would deceive 'em? Lies I'd tell, who would believe 'em?
How explain my thievin' of the candy bought mere days before?
Then - it came! - I'd simply blame my faithful fellow omnivore:
"'Twas the dog! She's poached before."

Satisfied with this solution, plotting now its execution,
up I headed to my bedroom, with a vow I firmly swore.
Next year, would this mom be buying gobs of candy and then lying
and denying my own role in its depletion yet once more?
Dare I tempt my will again with bags of chocolate bars galore?
Quoth this mother: "NEVERMORE!"

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