You know when you get a candy bar from a vending machine? - let’s say for argumentative purposes, a twix from the basement of shepard - and you’re super excited as you’re putting in yo dollar. You press the buttons with anticipation. You see the metal coil start to turn, and for a split second you panic that it will get jammed… but the moment passes! and your prize falls to the floor. You pick it up. and frolic back to the TV lounge with jubilation at the thought of yummy chocolate in your belly. the crinkling of the wrapper makes you ancy! ‘Open it!’ declares your aching stomach, ‘Not until I finish another page!’ says your brain. But of course physical demand for sustenance outweighs paper and you prepare to rip open the twix bar with such satisfaction ——- until you notice someting. on the back of twix bars are ads for other twix bars. BETTER twix bars. The twix bars of the socially elite class known as Twix PB - seeming to allude to the fact that this twix, this socially advantageous twix not found in your quaint basement, has peanut butter. All of sudden, your twix is lackluster. You realize that its a little stale. No bite is as fulfilling as the bite that could be filling your belly with peanut butter. Damn you twix packaging. Damn you. So then you get to thinking - wow i really need to try one of these twix PBs.
And then you realize - WHEN THE FUCK HAS ANYONE EVER ACTUALLY SEEN ONE OF THESE CANDY BARS?!??!?
In my mind, they only exist on the back of the wrapper.
