Nicole just wants to know me.
Or at least she did way back when she first requested childhood stories. God knows I have plenty of anecdotes, but nothing particularly pithy or illuminating - or at least I'd prefer to think that they are not illuminating.
In mentioning my Reese's Peanut Butter Cup nightmares in a previous post, though, I realized this is a good chance to explain exactly how much of a wuss I was. Am. Whatever.
When I was a kid, Reese's had an advertising campaign highlighting the individuality and ingenuity of Peanut Butter Cup eaters. Some people nibbled around the edges, some people poked a hole in the middle (definitely the best way), some people put that shit on ice and skated on it.
In the one I remember most vividly, the peanut butter cup is sitting there, all intact and delicious. The lights go off, then on again - and there are two holes in the middle of the cup.
Vampire voiceover, in a cheesy Transylvanian accent: "I like to eat the peanut butter first."
That was the line that spawned a thousand nightmares - months of gory, disgusting, crawl-into-bed-with-mom-and-dad nightmares. In one, vampires swooped down from the sky, fangs bared; I remember taking cover next to a peanut butter cup-shaped rock which wound up with bite marks in it. In another, there was a vampire locked in our guest room that I knew, someday somehow some way, would escape and suck my blood.
I also could not eat peanut butter cups anymore.
The weird thing was that I had never been freaked out vampires before. Everything else yes, but vampires, not really - too campy. I also like to draw a connection to the fact that my nightmares are still horrific, and are still sparked by things so stupid that I get absolutely no sympathy when I tell people about them. So screw you, Reese's. Screw you.