candy kern

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I choked when I was three, the end.

Submitted: November 17, 2016

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Submitted: November 17, 2016

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When I was younger, cuter, and less intelligent, I was a spoiled brat. Spoiled brat’s always get whatever they want when they want it. One day I decided I was too grown up for soft candy and wanted to move it up a notch with hard candy. That was probably the worst idea I have ever had. The second the candy entered my mouth it immediately went down my throat. I did as any normal child would do in that situation, I started panicking. My grandparents, who had been watching me like a hawk, were going crazy trying to figure out a way to remove the candy from my esophagus.  I honestly don’t remember how they got it out or what happened afterwards. I only remember the aftermath.

After the whole candy incident, I went on strike from any and all food. Somehow, my brain decided that I was going to choke on anything and everything solid. My mother drove me to the doctor an awful lot, and all the physician said was, “Your child needs to eat!” PediaSure was the only thing of substance my mom was able to force down my throat. One time my aunt sent me a Cinderella book but inside there was a story about me and my un-eating habit. That book still lives in the deep, dark abyss of my basement. Eventually, after a month of no food, I gave up on that phase of my life and started eating again. I do not know how I went more than three days without eating because food is one of the best things in my life.

I often ask my mom if she remembers when I went on a food strike and she answers with a loud, “YES!” My mom never laughs at any of my childhood antics because she always had to deal with them. However, when I look back at part of my life, I always laugh really hard. There are many fond memories that come from my younger adolescent years. This story is only one out of many, many others. For instance, I once threw a chair across a room in children’s church because I got out in musical chairs. I was a spoiled brat and everything had to go my way, or else.

My brother was never fond of my spoiled ways, or me in general. That was okay though. I didn’t like him either. John, my brother, is fourteen years older than me. We have never really had a close sibling relationship, but we don’t hate each other as much as we used to. Back in the day, John and I despised each other. When John had to watch me, I would wail and wail for my mother or father, and he would just tell me to shut up. John went into the Navy for six years, and I never really saw that much of him. In recent years, we have seen the error of our younger ways and have a semi-close relationship. I tell him happy birthday on his birthday, and he doesn’t say anything on my birthday. However, with our father’s prompting, last year he did buy me a toy drone for my birthday. Snapchat is the main way me and my brother communicate now. John watches my Snapchat stories and automatically knows what is going on in my life. This Thanksgiving my parents are going down to visit John in Texas. No parents for the entirety of Thanksgiving means party at my house, BYOW (Bring Your Own Weed). I’m just kidding, knowing me I’ll probably sleep for over half the day, and then do something useless for the remaining hours of the day. 


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