Twinkies and the Art of Perfection

Who doesn’t enjoy a yellow spongy creamed filled treat? Twinkies were my most favorite treat growing up. That, and other nutritious lacking, sugar packed treat. I had and still have a major sweet tooth. The Twinkie, however, not only satisfied the sweet tooth in me, it had my soul. My grandmother (whom I lived with growing up, you might want to read “The Mystery of My Sister’s Missing Teeth,”  to get a bit of background) would hide the box of Twinkies from both me and my sister. What my grandmother did not realize was that I knew where she hid them. All I had to do was drag a kitchen chair to the kitchen pantry, climb up and behind the cereal box was the beautiful and shiny box of Twinkies. I could hear the angels in heaven sing and play their harps every time I saw that box in all it’s glory. Now don’t worry, I of course would only sneak the Twinkies when my grandmother wasn’t home.

Now if you are too lazy to go read the The Missing Teeth story, here is a quick synopsis. My sister and I grew up with my grandparents, not as in visiting them every weekend, we lived them. So what about our parents? They lived with us too. I guess when my parents hooked up and nine months later when I came into this crazy world, they just kinda stayed put with my dad’s parents. A year and half later my sister came into this crazy world. What you should understand is that it was a GOOD THING that my parents never ventured off on their own, never flew the coop, never set their own path or tasted the sweetness of independence… Oh how thankful we are that they stayed and built a little addition to my grandparents house. If not for my grandparents around, I don’t think my sister and I would have survived-  I am not exaggerating.

My parents loved to party! My dad enjoyed getting drunk and getting high. My mom- well lets just say what my dad does, she does. So while my parents were off partying my sister and I were left home with my grandparents. And while my parents were nursing their hangovers, and while my mom worked to support their habit, my grandparents took the responsibility of taking care of us. Thank you grandparents!! My sis and I will forever be indebted and grateful!

So with that said, my grandparents were not exactly the ideal care takers either- but they did their very best and heck, the idea of raising little children again after you have done your part- well that says a lot. So how does Twinkies play a role in this little story?

Imagine a five and four year old being left home alone (yes, we were left home alone a lot, I will be writing more about that later) and knowing where the Twinkies are hidden, and wanting to satisfy our craving for such a treat, I took it upon myself to grab a couple of Twinkies from its very well hidden place. I COULDN’T WAIT!!!  All that hard work of dragging the chair and placing everything back where it belonged so that I wouldn’t be caught. I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into that yellowy spongey dessert- the fruit of my labor. Now as you may very well know, Twinkies come in pairs. So when I opened the clear plastic wrap of the Twinkies I noticed that one of them was a bit cracked. Right down the middle was the grand-canyon of cracks. This Twinkie was unworthy. It was unfit and therefore it shall be given to my little sister. So I ran to the living room and handed her the broken Twinkie.

DO NOT EVER GIVE MY SISTER A BROKEN TWINKIE!!!

That little ungrateful brat took that Twinkie threw it across the room like she was some sort of Major League Pitcher and started screaming and crying! I panicked. So I thought if I gave her my perfect Twinkie she would shut her mouth and all would be right in the world. I was wrong. She took my perfect Twinkie and crumbled it in her hand and threw the million pieces onto the floor. She stood there crying and I stood there memorized. There were Twinkies all over my grandmother’s fuckin living room floor. I knew we would get spanked for this- I knew because before my grandma and grandpa, better known as Pita, left for their errand, she would hang a leather belt on the side of the doorway into the living room. She pointed to that sucker and said, in Spanish, “BE GOOD! Or else!”

And just so we are clear- if one of us got in trouble, both of us got spanked. So there is my little sister screaming her little head off, because she got the broken Twinkie, and I on the other hand, trying my very best to remedy the situation so that we can avoid the ever evil spanking, kneeled on the floor and started stuffing those Twinkies down my mouth.

Guess who shows up while I am still trying to clean up the mess? Yup. My Grandma. I think this is why I never really learned Spanish, because these Spanish words were coming out of her mouth and they didn’t sound very nice- so I think I subconsciously blocked out the ability to learn Spanish that day. Did we get our spankings that day? I don’t remember. I may have possibly blocked that out too.

I don’t think I ever snuck Twinkies out from the pantry again- or I think my Grandma probably found a much better hiding place. Well played Grandma.

I think I am going to go have a Twinkie now. Treat yourselves to something sweet once in awhile friends. Life is too short.

Love.  Please ignore how my underwear is showing and my fly being open. My little sister has always been cooler than me.

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