Ode to a sour key


I only have eyes for my sour key.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

There are few things in life as constant as family and friends. I lucked out in that arena for sure.

However, there are times where nothing they say or do can help. That’s where my not-so-secret lover swoops in and saves the day.

I dream of when we’ll be together and I can taste him. One look at his soft curves will set my heart aflutter. My mouth waters with a glance of his long shaft.

He is: the sour key.

I cannot tell you how many times the sour key has come to my rescue: he’s saved me from the 3 p.m. wall – and again at 3 a.m.; he helped cover the nasty smell of onions on my breath before I went into that meeting one time; he was my constant companion for all-night cram sessions; he’s been a permanent fixture on my desk at work; he was there to see me through Super Mario Wii to the bitter end; and he’s been my rock through all the breakups and bad relationships that litter my past.

Ah yes, he’s been my trusty steed in times of need.


My sour key and I in happier times.

His ooey gooey goodness flavours some rather fond memories while his sour sweetness has propped me up in times of turbulence. He is my rock.

There have been times I may have overindulged and the morning after I will swear him off forever, but it doesn’t take long for the urges to return. Even the times my tongue bleeds for love of him, I can’t keep myself from going back.

I’ve tried others: those cheap imitation ‘soothers’ don’t come close – though in a pinch, they’ll barely suffice. Sour snowboards are another that leave me wanting, a poor man’s key, if you ask me (I think they’re priced similarly, oddly enough). Don’t even try to tempt me with sour cherries or peaches because they will never hold a candle to my dear, sweet key.

I have been known to go to great lengths to track him down, wandering aimlessly from 7-Eleven to Beckers and beyond just for a taste.

Oh my darling sour key, I would just like to thank you for your years of service. We have come to a point in our lives where our paths may cross less. My metabolism is not what it used to be and I am supposed to set an example for daughter now. I will look back on our time together with great fondness and weep for days gone by when your juicy, fruity tartness did not add inches to my waistline.

Our time in the sun is at an end, but we will still rendezvous out of sight, away from judgmental eyes and away from my child because I couldn’t dare share you – and she’d totally want you because she wants EVERYTHING I have!

Adieu, sweet and sour friend. Until we meet again (probably later tonight).

Coming soon: Gummy bear ballad and The Doritos dissertation


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