Turd Candy

When I was growing up around Pike Creek, we would all go to Lyle’s store, each of us so packed with loose change we sounded like human rain-sticks. For us trailer park kids, the store was far enough to warrant a bike ride, but so close you could pedal bare feet. It wasn’t more than a shack surrounded by a dirt parking lot, but it had every candy within our limited means: Jars of mojos and pixie stix, cinnamon lips and caramels. And that grape flavored gum that looked like a purple cat turd. I still wonder who bought that.