Candy corn

Today I would like to talk about something that's been bugging me for years.
Candy corn.
Halloween has never been an easy time for me. Someone would always take me trick or treating, but it was never as fun as they made it look on tv. Not only does my family live in a cold place that makes it impossible to trick or treat without a coat, I had to stand on people's doorsteps and watch them drop things into my bag I knew I could never eat. At home my father would sort my candy and give me dimes for anything suspect, usually leaving me with nothing but tootsie rolls. I hated it.
But when I was seven, when my parents started giving me an allowance, I realized that I could tag along on grocery trips and buy myself an entire bag of Halloween candy that I knew was safe, and I could have it any time in October, no need to wait. I probably drove my parents up the wall with my constant sugar high, but that's not the point.
The point is, I nearly always picked candy corn. And even better than candy corn (if possible) were those little orange pumpkins that taste exactly the same but are bigger and feel nicer to bite into. I loved those. I brought them to school in my lunch box all October and for a long time after, until I'd eaten every last one that I'd bought with every last penny I'd found in the couch. Candy corn was a tradition with me, a comforting "at least" I could always go back to. "I couldn't eat half the things at the class party this year, but at least I've got half a bag of candy corn waiting for me at home!"
And what did they do? Oh, nothing much, only went and changed their manufacturing locations! So now, instead of ending with yellow dye number five, the list of ingredients ends with a warning about traces of peanuts!
HOW DARE THEY!!! Do they not realize they've driven a stake through the hearts of millions of allergic children? Can they not comprehend the sadness they are raining over the nation? "Contains peanuts" is bad enough, but "may contain peanuts" sounds like something a school yard bully would say. "Ooh, these may contain peanuts! You've loved them all your life, want to take a chance?"
But after I'd had my initial shocked temper tantrum in the candy aisle (I've gotta say, you get strange looks when you flip the bird to a bag of candy. In my defense, I was only fourteen.) I decided to relax, breathe deeply, and take to the internet. Surely there was someone, somewhere, who would sell me some peanut-free candy corn.
Actually, no. There wasn't.
It's September and they're starting to stock the Halloween candy again. Once again I'm going to see advertisements and holiday specials about all the things I can't do. But this year, once again, I'm going to have to do it without my comforting "at least." I can no longer have candy corn.
At least I have a blog to complain to.