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Roll-Ups Redux


Really, Italpasta? I'd expect more integrity with a name like "Italpasta".



I was walking through town recently when I noticed a smell I haven't encountered in a good while and a half at the least. It was the scent of Fruit Roll-Ups, and I was momentarily startled by the wonderfulness of its intensity. For the first time in years, I was compelled to think deeply on Fruit Roll-Ups. This meditation soon brought me to a conclusion that seemed to be at odds with the heady virtue of the aroma I'd experienced.

Fruit Roll-Ups aren't very good.

I can truthfully say that I have no taste for them, and I doubt that I ever did. I can say this with knowledge of the erstwhile love I had for foods that I now dislike. But Fruit Roll-Ups are a different issue. I never liked them, yet I know that I once enjoyed them.

And it comes back to that smell. In my recent encounter with it, I was stricken with no hint of desire to consume its apparent originator, though it was obviously powerful enough to provoke this contemplation. However, the smell did briefly instill in me a vague wish for intimate associations with Fruit Roll-Ups. It made me want to rub my face in them. It made me want to wash my hands in them and wrap myself in them until my skin was sticky with their saccharine scent. 

And I realised that these were not new desires. This was why I had enjoyed the candy in my youth despite its uninteresting flavour. The smell had always filled me with these instincts and more, but their obvious impracticality had led me to simply eat the confection instead. When that action became an inadequate substitute, the candy left my life. 

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.