They Really Do Mean Every

been going through some old writings. wrote this freshmen year of college. the assignment was to write something very descriptive.


I sat across the kitchen table from him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. He hesitated, then let out a long breath.

“Uh huh.” We’ve been together for nearly four years, through some of the most awkward stages of our lives. This wasn’t a big deal; at least, not for me. I pushed the bag towards him.

“Go on. Open it.”

“Listen,” he laughed, “I’m barely agreeing to do this! Why don’t you open it?” I smiled at him and took the green sack of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

They’re a candy concocted in the mind of J.K. Rowling, the author of the Harry Potter series. The children of the Potter world eat the jellybeans that are supposed to be flavored like various things, both good and bad. Their tastes range from Cherry to Earthworm.

Yes, earthworm. This is why I’m attempting to try these brought-to-life jellybeans. Can they actually produce something that tastes like a dirt-dwelling maggot?

I opened the pouch, which reminded me of something Tinker Bell would carry fairy dust in. There was nothing magical about the surprises in this bag.

After untying the yellow string, I spilled the contents of the bag out onto the table. Green ones, yellow ones, dotted ones. I took the tag that was attached to the string off and found that it contained colored pictures of each jellybean and the name of it underneath. Basically, if you didn’t want to eat a jellybean that tasted like earwax, you could avoid it by matching up the candy with the picture.

How convenient.

I looked over the various flavors. There were the classics – Grape, Tutti Frutti, Cherry. But then there was the unconventional – Booger, Spaghetti and Grass. Right next to the beans labeled Earthworm and Soap was the word LATEST. Couldn’t they have added something like Lemon Drop or Strawberry to the list?

We sat in silence for a while and he finally picked up a blue one. I checked it against the pictures.

“Oh, that’s no fun! It’s blueberry!”

“Works for me.” He popped it into his mouth. I got daring and grabbed a gray one. “Sardine,” I said, as I tipped it toward him before putting it in my mouth.

I can’t quite explain what happened next. I wish I had better prepared and kept a napkin and a glass of water next to me.

At first I tasted nothing and feared this whole Bertie Bott’s thing was a bust. Suddenly, my mouth was overcome with a slimy, oily sensation. I’ve never eaten fish before and it’s a guarantee I will never attempt to after this. It tasted like the smell of the ocean on a humid day. I recalled a family vacation in which hundreds of dead fish washed ashore because of hurricanes churning out at sea. Images of white carcasses with hollow eyes flooded my mind, their bodies baking under the glare of the midday sun.

The jellybean stuck to my teeth, only half chewed. My mouth hung open, tongue probing in and out of my lips, trying to rid itself of the slime that seemed to envelope it. I froze, wishing I hadn’t chewed up the jellybean so well. I was hoping that I could tilt my head forward far enough to make the candy fall out, leaving me free to spit the rest of the taste out. My taste buds were tainted. The jellybean was wedged on my back teeth and I had to free it with my tongue.

I quickly did this and ran for the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of orange juice. I took two swigs and slammed it down on the table. “That’s incredible. What’s next?”

He looked at me, confused. “But, you – “

“I know. It tastes so real. I want to know what they all taste like.” I skimmed the jellybean guide and found that the trick is in the green ones. Both kinds are virtually the same shade, except one was Green Apple and the other was Grass.

I took my chance and grabbed the first one I saw. With the first bite I felt like I had a mouth full of football field. I could taste the grittiness of dirt, smell the fresh cut grass. I laughed at the jellybean’s accuracy. Out of morbid curiosity I grabbed a Dirt one to see how it compared. It was essentially the same.

He sat and laughed at the amazement on my face. “Fine, I”ll try a weird one, but nothing too drastic.” He took the little booklet from me and selected a green speckled one. Spinach.

“Forceful childhood dinners,” he said with a grimace on his face. “it’s pretty damn close to the real thing.” He quit after Spinach. I kept going.

I blazed through a Toasted Marshmallow and a Buttered Popcorn, reminiscent of camping and movie theaters. I marveled at Spaghetti. I felt the warm tomato sauce running down my throat; Grandma’s home cooking couldn’t compare.

I frantically wiped my tongue off with my fingers once I hit Soap. I felt bubbles forming in my mouth, all packed with a flower scent. A child’s fear was to have a bar of soap shoved into their mouth; I was willingly living the nightmare.

I was disappointed with Booger and Earwax. They were bland and I spit them into the garbage after I got bored with them. Apparently, those showcasing flavors that come from your own body aren’t too impressive.

I finally found what I was looking for – Vomit. I’d heard that these were rare beans; you were lucky if you got one in a bag. There it was before me, in all its brown speckled glory. Dare I?

It didn’t so much taste like the bile that rises up in your throat after you’ve eaten the bad Mexican or the greasy pizza. It was more like a mix of flavors that made you want to puke. It was garlicky, sweet and sour at the same time. The taste was so strong that it traveled to my nose, where I smelled the most putrid of odors. It was rotten eggs and dirty gym socks; a baby’s diaper and heated garbage bags on the hottest day of summer.

I began to gag and immediately spit the jellybean on the floor. Before I had the chance to grab for the orange juice, I threw up in my mouth a little. I swallowed it down and closed my watering eyes. I let my mouth hang open, airing it out. I finally collected myself and blindly reached for the carton, which I finished off in a ridiculous amount of time.

I turned to him, his face red from biting back laughter. I surveyed the beans before me, colorfully littering the table. I glanced at the booklet one more time and said, “Next time we need to aim for a bag with Earthworm. I really want to know what those suckers taste like.”