Remember the giddy excitement that welled up inside the pit of your stomach when, upon completing a marathon Trick-or-Treating run, it was finally time to dump the contents of your bloated pillowcase all over the floor?
Amid random carpet crumbs and tufts of dog fur, the next crucial step would then be to sort, categorize, and ultimately pawn off all candy rejects upon easily swayed siblings and casual acquaintances who failed to grasp the unspoken yet inarguable confection hierarchy that still exists to this very day.
In my post-Halloween candy sorting circle, anyone with a shred of sugar sense knew that scoring willing Good & Plenty adoptees was an exercise in sheer futility.



