I wasn’t much for sweets or baked things before I got locked up. In fact, in county, I even cut off desserts to lose weight. Well once I got to the Club Fed that all changed.
See a couple of days ago I bought a Kit Kat bar, I wanted to see if it was as good as the Kit Kat bar I tasted in there.
It, of course, wasn’t.
When I was in there, I used to wheel and deal, and hustle and scheme, just like out here with beadwork. I didn’t have beads and thread and needles to begin with but I found a way to get them. I taught people beadwork, I gave them different patterns, and I straight out bought stuff or traded beadwork.
Well it came to pass, I ended up owing this big bitch named Smiley a twelve pack of soda and a kit kat bar for a bead organizer. Then she went to the shu, or the hole. Then when she got out, I bought the 12 pack and Kit Kat bar and next thing I know she only grabbed the soda and walked out. The Kit Kat bar was still on my locker. I didn’t say nothing.
It was mine.
Now a Kit Kat bar isn’t even my favorite candy bar and it had probably been maybe 5 years or more since I ate one. Unless I was lucky enough to get one in one of the post Halloween raids of my kids’ plastic pumpkin containers and pillowcases full of candy. I never even thought twice about a Kit Kat.
I peeled it open slowly as if one of Willy Wonka’s Golden Tickets would be shining brightly at me. I almost half expected Smiley to come swipe it out of my hands like Debo on Friday and leave me crying.
She never came, so I sat down and took a long time to eat it. I let each piece slowly melt in my mouth before I enjoyed the crunch of the wafer inside.
It was an epic Kit Kat moment that no commercial could ever match or come close to advertising the feeling. I know for the rest of my life I will never eat another Kit Kat like that, nor do I want to.