Sugar free gummy bears

Ballet recital

Kyle Kennedy
Allow me to weave a tale for you. A tale of heartache, lose, embarrassment, shame and of course, public expulsion of the slippery black liquid that must surely be the blood of Satan. My daughter is five. She is the light of my life and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. She loves ballet. She falls asleep during every performance we take her to but she loves it all the same. So when it came to that special time of year for her winter ballet concert, I was the proudest man in the whole theater.

As is customary at venues such as these, there was a lovely little bake sale set up in the entryway which housed all manner of decadent confectionaries and baked treats that both stirred my hunger and saddened it all the same. You see I am not a small man and a recent visit to the doctors had proven distressing. Healthier steps had to be taken to ensure that one day I would have the tearful honor of giving my daughter away at her wedding, so of course I took those steps seriously. Yet with my doctors advice still ringing in my ears, I could not help but sneak over to the table while my wife's back was turned to peruse the assortment. Then, through the haze of custard-filled cupcakes, mouthwatering brownies and tutu shaped sugar cookies, I saw them. A gleaming light at the end of a sweets filled tunnel; my salvation in the sea of sugar. If only I knew... If only I could have known.

Lovingly wrapped in individual sized, hand-made plastic baggies and tied with delicate siphon ribbon, lay my salvation atop the mountains of delectable morsels. Gummy bears are not generally my thing, but after two weeks of strict dieting and bearing the word "Sugar-free" emblazoned across the front, they might as well have been ambrosia from the Gods themselves. The adorable little girl behind the plastic folding table leaped up at my approach. She was younger than my daughter and wore the bright pink outfit of a ballerina with pride. She tugged on her mothers arm and pointed to me with a huge smile wrapping from ear to ear. The mother welcomed me and asked what I'd like. I could hardly contain myself as I exclaimed "three packages of gummy bears please!" In my exuberance I had drawn a little too much attention, in the form of my wife.

She came over like a whisper in a field and asked what I was getting. In my glee I turned around with three of the packages tucked neatly into my arms wearing a smile to match my new friends. My loving wife frowned and tried to pull a package from my grasp but found them to be cemented in place. She chuckled at me and gave me the look that made me marry her. "You can have one bag... now. Then rest you'll have to save for later." I kissed her and we readied ourselves for the performance of our daughter's career. Little did I know, that she had once again saved my life.

I merrily snacked on the little multi-colored gems of pure pleasure as the concert got underway. The girls where charming and the scene was festive. It was a perfect night... right up until the first rumble that alerted me to the possibility of danger. It started off quiet and subtle much like the performance, but soon it too grew to a crescendo. As I shifted my weight in the hard plastic seats, I knew I was in trouble the moment I touched my brow. Beads of warning sweat had started to form, though soon the trickle would give way to a deluge. I loosened my special Christmas tie and dabbed at my face with my sleeve in an effort to remain for the most important night of my daughters young life. My wife noticed my anguish and leaded over to ask me what was wrong. I tried to tell her... I really did, but the pain had become more then I could bear as a painful tide crashed upon my anus. Try as I might, the bears were fighting back, seemingly set on draining my body, in it's entirety, of life giving liquid.

It was no good. I would have to try to make it to the restroom. I tried to excuse myself but the effort of even shifting my shaking legs told my body it was too late. If I moved it would be the end of me and all that I held dear. I sat in silent anguish, biting my lip to try and focus my mind on anything other than the pulsating waves of torment aching to breech the confines of my intestines. The cheery holiday music sounded in stark juxtaposition to the symphony of horrors growing inside of me.

Then it happened. I thought it was nothing. It was just to relieve some of the pressure I told myself. What started as an attempt to allow only gas to leave quickly turned into a levy shattering entirely. I gripped my wife's hand and looked with tearful eyes into hers, begging for forgiveness as the expulsion sloshed like Niagara falls onto the theater floor. I sobbed silently as the shame overtook me and there was nothing else to do but expel the demon from my core. "Oh my God!" One woman cried as she was swept away in the torrent. She was never seen again. I begged all that was holy, any Gods that were listening, to take pity on my wretched soul and deliver me from this hell. Yet none answered. There was only the flow. It gushed out of me despite the screams of the others in my row and those around them. I couldn't have stopped it if I tried, but God help me... I didn't. I couldn't. The comingling of relief, searing pain and shame sounded in my cries for mercy.

I must have blacked out from the pain. Because when I came to I was laying on my back in my own filth with two paramedics standing over me. They were obviously trying to suppress their gagging as they worked on me. I couldn't blame them. The stench was overwhelming; thick and oppressive like a sickly sweet blanket on a warm summers eve. As they carted me out I heard one of them screaming to a stage hand for a bucket... apparently I wasn't done just yet. I begged them for my family but they simply screamed. The next two days were a blur of IV's, doctors and what I think was an African Medicine man, though I was on some heavy duty painkillers.

When I was finally released I was mad. The shame was more than my fragile male ego could handle and I wanted justice. Surely that mother had laced the gummies with some kind of laxative, like a sick twisted joke but after confronting the woman she told me that she had done nothing to the bears at all. Then she showed me the original package. A 5 pound bag of Haribo Sugerfree Gummy bears... and right there on the label was a warning. It was one she had taken a little too lightly. I researched further and found the very same treats here. I poured over the reviews, each one worse than the last until finally I could come to only one conclusion. The devil himself must laugh at we mortal for we are his playthings.

Also they were a little too chewy.