special dark torture

I grew up as the youngest of four children. Every Christmas morning, five stockings (four kids plus Mom) were carefully displayed in five distinct locations in the living room. Any loot located in or next to the stocking with your name on it was yours. The stocking contained apples, oranges, tangerines, assorted unshelled nuts, Hershey's Kisses and Hershey's assorted miniature chocolates. Mother would have carefully counted the assorted chocolates to make sure that we each got the same number of each type: Mr. Goodbar, Milk Chocolate, Special Dark and Krackel.

All of the fruit in our stockings went into a huge ceramic bowl on the dining room table. All of the nuts went into a wooden nut bowl which also contained a nutcracker and a pick. But the miniature chocolates were left as individual property.

Now I loved the Krackel and I liked the Milk Chocolate. And I would eat a Mr. Goodbar in a pinch. But I hated the Special Dark. Everyone knew this. As soon as we opened our stockings, I started trying to trade with my siblings to try to get Krackels before they ate them. My brother traded right away. But my oldest sister refused. She knew if she waited, that I would blow through my Krackels and Milk Chocolates and would then be desperate. This would put her in a position to offer a 2 for 1 deal. She would give me one Krackel in exchange for two Special Darks. I would howl in protest, but I would eventually take the deal. Sometimes my Mother would take pity on me and trade me for my Special Darks.

Only recently did it occur to me that Mother could have prevented the whole thing by simply giving the Special Darks to the people who actually liked them. Sigh. Her treachery knew no bounds.