The perils of eating haunted Halloween chocolate
I investigate if devouring trick-or-treat goodies turns you into a demon.
It is strange that Halloween is such a popular global event because it is fraught with so many hideous dangers. If you manage to survive without being stalked by a ghost or entangled in an enormous spider’s web, the horrendous screams of irritating children will be guaranteed to send you to your grave.
Another serious risk during the holiday of ghouls is chocolate. Although dishing out treats riddled with sugar is an apparently playful gesture that has taken place for decades, it is worrying that a key factor has been overlooked: what happens if you eat a chocolate ghost and turn into a demon?
It’s an important scientific question; perhaps all of the brain bods should stop faffing around with international health crises and start getting to grips with the stuff that really matters. Courageously, despite not owning a white coat or having crazy white hair, I launched an experiment of my own.
Thorntons’ Spooky Caramel Shortcake Bites provided the perfect subject, being filled with stencils of ghosts, skulls, bats and really scary eyes that could probably cut through bone. There were ten tiny pieces of the bites in the pack, meaning that the risk of horror being emitted into the atmosphere was extreme. I knew that I had to act quickly, so I heroically ate them all in about twenty seconds.
Even though the Thorntons blurb described the shortcakes as having an “indulgent creamy layer” with “smooth milk chocolate”, the only taste they provided was of boring biscuit. Clearly this was the result of the monsters sapping all of the goodness out of the chocolates and had nothing to do with them being a cheaply made product.
Despite the immense demonic power of blood-sucking bats and terrorising ghosts soaking through my stomach, at no point did I become possessed, turn into a zombie or be unmasked by a big brown dog driving a flower-power van. This could prove that Halloween chocolates are not as perilous as they are portrayed, or it may be that years of consuming endless portions of salty, greasy cheesy chips has turned my body into an impenetrable fatberg fortress.
Whatever the truth may be, remember this: is it just a black cat, or could it be a creepy reincarnation of a ghostly Colin the Caterpillar sent up from the pits of Hell to stalk the streets hunting for brains and to wreak havoc at birthday parties?
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Comments (2)
I have posted some bloody awesome food! For Halloween. Does that count?
I see what you did there 👏