The bitter cherry taste of rejection

I think this is perhaps to be filed under Be Careful What you Wish For, and also, There’s No Accounting for Taste.

Do you remember my post about The Churkey? Well, it turns out it does magically refill with Cherry Mash candy! Sort of.

The friends who gave me The Churkey, and who also brought The Cherry Mash back into my life, recently bestowed upon me not one but two entire bags of the wee size ones.

With such bounty, I could no longer justify keeping the Mash from my friends.

So I waited until all the Christmas goodies were gone, and brought them out as the piece de resistance at a recent gathering. I was so excited! It’s the Cherry Mash, you guys! I love these! You will love them, too! Who could NOT love them?!

My friends. My friends could not. My friends did not love them.

It may have been the wine, the brownies, or the piles of other food we ate, but still: I don’t think it was given a fair shake, my beloved Mash. Look past the nutty milk chocolate into its little cherry-flavored heart; there you will find your six-year-old self. She loves it, trust me.

But fine. Whatever. I don’t care. I’m taking all my toys, my mounds of candy, and my magic Churkey, and going home.

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