The Number Five

Last night I headed north and met Miss Reale for an evening of talking, laughing, and judging in O-Town. Never one to shy from talking to strangers, Sarah asked some dude for a dessert place recommendation. On his word, we headed down the road to joint called Burch Creek Mercantile.

As soon as we pulled up, we know this place was a win.  The shop is completely old-school with soda jerks and ice cream, plus a candy store of really cool candy’s.  After enjoying a couple scoops, Sarah decided to make a few purchases.  What I didn’t know was that she bought us both Zotz.

I remember buying Zotz in the summer’s at the candy store near my grandmas house…but I can honestly say I haven’t had one in 20 years.  What I had forgotten was how freaking painful it was to eat them.  Within seconds my entire mouth was gripped in a strange series of near paralyzing configurations, while the sour-fizz did it’s trick.  I felt ridiculous, and couldn’t think or talk for at least five minutes after.  It was kind of awesome, and we both laughed hard at our ridiculousness.  I instantly felt 10 again.

I ate another one today.