Pixie Dust Lasts Forever
The sense of smell and taste are intertwined and are the strongest senses we have connected to memory. I can reminisce through the tastes of my past from chocolate to cough medicine. However, it does come as a surprise that I have any surviving taste buds after what my brother did to me.
I was about five years old when that crisp NY Halloween came around. Pixie Stix were my favorite candy at that time, tubes of radiant fruit-flavored bliss. After the traditional safety check and trading of candy ritual between my brother and me, I distinctly remember carefully opening all the pastel-striped tubes of Pixie Stix and pouring them into a small white plastic bowl. I had planned to sip out of that glorious bowl in the next few glorious autumn mornings after I finished playing on the swing set outside.
My brother, evil incarnate, had other plans for the candy powder. He was a full seven years older than I and was too old to go trick-or-treating in my opinion. He had a cruel streak a mile wide, and I was his convenient dupe that day.
After playing outside, I headed back in the kitchen and reached for the beautiful bowl. I noticed my brother watching me across the kitchen table, so I decided to down the delicious dust as quickly as possible. Suddenly, my eyes began to tear, my mouth was on fire, and I felt like throwing up. I cried as my eyes swelled shut with pain, and my nose squinched up in a perpetual sneeze. My brother was laughing so hard he fell off the kitchen chair but was immediately sent to his room by my mom who’d heard the commotion from the next room and discovered the sordid truth.
You see, my brother had eaten most of my beloved candy powder and replaced it with some pure black pepper, making sure to cover the top of the bowl with enough Pixie dust to hide the fire-spice. To this day, I can’t eat Pixie Stix without thinking of that bitter day and stifling a sneeze.