My first go-to snack was chocolate. Things haven’t changed much. Mama Cox and her oldest daughter were masterful cooks. They made chocolate cakes that were Heaven Sent and chocolate pies that still give me vivid dreams. But my favorite treat was available at most stores within driving distance.
Something called a Lucky Cake, made by world famous industrial baker Tip Top Bakery, was my favorite guilty pleasure, by far. My parents knew it would solve all my problems—until one morning while returning home from the local hospital after losing my tonsils.
I had been a good boy throughout the experience, so I was promised anything I wanted. I was six, so my parents weren’t too worried about my demands. They bought me the requested Lucky Cake and I immediately took a giant bite. Turns out a few days in the hospital can wreck normal moisture retention and taste buds. The chocolate treat tasted like sand from the Cahaba River. With a few tiny pebbles tossed in for good measure.
I spit out the contents of my mouth and began crying in pain, surprise, and disappointment. The first action was grounds for spanking. The second literally saved my butt. By the time we arrived home I was almost back to normal but lost interest in Lucky Cakes.
I spent my teenage years maturing and preparing for adulthood. By the time I had fathered children, I had snack time down to a science. Cheez-It crackers washed down with cold beer became the only salty snack I needed, and Oreos satisfied my sweet cravings.
Then capitalism took over and began causing trouble. Greedy corporations started offering different versions of popular snacks purchased by millions of people. I stubbornly refused to succumb to these raw attempts to extort money from people who couldn’t spare it and didn’t want to change.
I stuck to my routine, but my delicate digestive system didn’t like the turmoil and began rebelling. This eliminated beer from my diet. A change to wine and eventually returning to bourbon solved that problem.
I did finally succumb to chocolate covered Oreos, but the sensation was so strong I felt ashamed and dirty after consuming half a box. With a certain amount of trouble, I stopped them cold turkey. Hershey Miniatures became my substitute. I eventually discovered Whoopie Pies, a northern version of Lucky Cakes, but they require extra effort to locate.
Just after COVID ended I mistakenly purchased Extra Crispy Cheez-Its and liked them—a lot. I’m pretty sure they’re the original. The company probably switched formulas then returned to the original, rebranding them to save face.
Then last week, a Publix visit changed my life. While searching for acceptable chocolate cookies to try, I saw something called Oreo Cakesters. I tried to keep walking, but a blinding light shining on them from a higher place drew me back.
As I read the box, chills engulfed my upper torso. It was a modern version of Lucky Cakes. So snacking is once again perfect. I’ll need to increase my workouts to cover extra calories and purchase clothes that don’t mysteriously shrink.
A better hiding place is also under consideration.
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