the pop box

On our way out of a party in Alphabet City last night, we headed for our favorite drunk pizza joint only to discover that it had closed down. Fortunately, there was a strange surprise just down the block: on the sidewalk, a Navajo blanket was covered in a GIANT pile of wrapped candies.

Irene ran up to the pile, and in a bear-hug motion, scooped up about 25 of them and ran across Avenue A. A small man sat just out of the way and calmly watched the action. There was no money exchanged, but somehow that was fine.

We ducked into another pizza place and examined the loot. The wrappers came in two designs: one, a sexual Jungle Book knockoff; the other, two fat Swiss children frolicking in the hills. On the back, Russian writing and little feet.

After very little deliberation, I popped one of those suckers open and ate it. The first layer was a bland, waxey coat of chocolate. Inside, stale wafers were sandwiched between a sweet, frothy brown cream. About ten seconds into the chewing, an intensely soapy aftertaste kicked in. That aftertaste then lingered for another few minutes, becoming "fragrant," then "bitter" and "painful."
- POP by J