Now, my friends, let us turn to the issue of Starburst candies.
I firstly contend that Starburst are appropriately named. The “burst” is from the blast of succulent fruit juices blasting all over my mouth, covering my tongue in craven delights and rotting my molars back to hell. The “star” references the crazy pattern of lights that become visible to me after eating 150 of them in a row.
Put those together, and you’ve described the Starburst experience: a jaw-tiring buildup to a savage, sugary climax of unnatural fruit essences.
After such a Starburst binge, one is left exhausted and complete, glistening with dewy-sweet beads of perspiration across their tanned, lithe abdomen. I ask you this, could a Kit Kat leave you this satisfied? I think not.
Come over to my house tonight and eat some Starburst with me. My wife will be gone.
Snickers satisfies you, my friend, not Kit Kat.
Snickers has gone the way of the Dodo, who also, incidentally, was led to extinction after switching to cheap peanuts.
Starburst are the forbidden fruits of the future.
Dodo satisfies you.
How many packets of starbursts do i need to consume to feel amazing and see the pixy stars? FML