(Thus ends the worst analogy ever written.)

Foot-long nougat and taffy candy, waxy lollipops, cinnamon-coated peanuts, greasy cheesy puffs–if you can think of it, it’s probably been in the dollar store snack aisle. And this aisle is home to dozens and dozens of gummies, some that sadly never see the florescent light of a grocery store.

I consider myself a gummy connoisseur. Okay, maybe more of a dilettante. But I’ve tried a variety of gummies over the years. Frogs, sharks, brains, chicken feet, teeth and gums, burgers, fries, sodas, hot dogs, and realistically colored rats… I’ve even sampled “gummy kits,” which allow gummy fanatics to construct their own sweet and chewy pizzas or cookies. If it’s a gummy and reasonably edible, I’ll eat it. (But Swedish Fish to me is like garlic to a vampire. They’re just nasty.)

So I had to try these. Now, I’d mentioned in my last article that popcorn shouldn’t exist in ice cream. That’s only because it doesn’t taste right in that form. As a gummy, popcorn isn’t terribly bad.

It’s weird, but it’s not bad.

And if it tastes like popcorn, all the better.

You’ll notice that there are four different flavors to “guess” from. You’ll also notice that the company recommend the candy for kids ages 4 and up. After reading the next few paragraphs, you’ll be debating the touchy issue of subtle child abuse.

Everyone who’s ever eaten candy knows what apple, watermelon, and strawberry taste like. That’s right: fake. But I couldn’t detect any of the fruit flavors. It was impossible. There probably was never any artificial fruit flavor in these gummy clusters, because all I could taste was sweaty socks.

No one with even a fiber of gray matter would stick an old, sweat-drenched sock in their mouth… unless they were desperate for money. But smell one. Get the soppiest, moldiest, gag-inducing sock you can find–preferably one recently worn by a football player who’d been training for eight hours on the field on a broiling summer day–and smell with your mouth partially open. You will taste it. Damn, you can feel the fumes rising to your palate. Shutting your mouth as the taste pierces your tastebuds won’t do any good; it’ll just smash the odor-taste further into your tongue.

That’s what eating these allegedly fruity kernels was like. Hell, the aforementioned gummy rats tasted like fruit! The popcorn-flavored kernels were a welcome respite, though. They even tasted just like popcorn, albeit air-popped and lightly buttered. Almost therapeutic after having my mouth ravaged.

But to get to both of these charming flavors, you have to get past the sour crystals. I guess they’re supposed to resemble salt (gummy fries have these sour crystals), but, really, it’s hard to enjoy a gummy when your eyelids are squeezing your eyes back into your skull… and when memories of the locker room after gym class are flooding your brain and mouth.

Still, this was a unique experience. Not mind-blowing, but certainly taste buds-blowing. If you see these suckers in a store, try them out. You just might regret it.

But it’s never easy to decide. You got your singular flavors, plain yet illustrious: vanilla and chocolate. Then you got the chunky ones, each flavor with a mouthful of crunchy or chewy treasures: mint chocolate chip, strawberry, and cherry. Then we have our adventurous forays, each one promising a grand experience for the palate: birthday cake, fried ice cream, lemon creme pie, and so many more. It’s impossible to ignore the calls to the frozen desserts aisle, and I must scour the displays. Even just seeing the different flavors can be enough to satisfy the cravings, if only for a short while.

But there are times when I must try a flavor to indulge my curiosity–and there are times when it feels like I’m punishing it at the same time.

Yes, taking up half a carton while befriending vanilla ice cream with caramel pieces is a new, daring flavor: popcorn, with candy-coated popcorn pieces and praline peanuts. Personally, I believe that puffed-up corn kernels shouldn’t be frozen, mixed into dairy products, or manipulated into a creamy substance.

That’s what I thought of the concept. The taste is another matter altogether.

It was nothing short of odd. No, peculiar. No… incongruous. I couldn’t tell if the popcorn pieces had been candied. The coating probably dissolved in the ice cream. Not that it mattered, since every time I bit down on a piece, I had the unsettling feeling that someone had chewed up and spat popcorn into my ice cream. Shades of family movie night pranks…

Take out the popcorn pieces, and you might have a winning flavor on your hands. Otherwise, every mouthful just leaves you wondering if someone’s spit is mingling with yours.

By the way, the caramel for the plain vanilla tasted burnt. It did nothing to wash down the popcorn stuff. I should have tried rocky road.