I’m sure you guys are already all up on this, but it’s National Fudge Day. If you haven’t already fallen into a sugar-induced coma, then I’m at least two pounds of fudge ahead of you. As someone who recently had 16 cavities filled in two days, I think I am a fair judge on everything that is delicious, and fudge fits in that category. In celebration of this most glorious and holy of days, we’ve written an ode to fudge. Dearest Fudge,
You are as cloyingly sweet as you are conveniently portable. Nothing could be more dangerous than your quickly crystallizing flesh. The spaces between my teeth long to be filled with your sugary goodness. The first time I tried to make you mine, the recipe proved a challenge, but even in liquid form, a spoonless world couldn’t keep me from you. I want to remove you from your home and smear you on cake. I want to stack your cubes and make my mouth the river into which you’ll fall. I want to melt you in the microwave and dip you with grilled cheese sandwiches. I want to lay out your parts and acknowledge my love for each. When you’re gone, I ogle your picture for hours. Thank you for all you’ve given us—the thundering thighs and golden teeth. And as the summering sun sets this evening, we will lay side-by-side, my fudge and I. I’m confident in my sexuality, and when the United States of America stops discriminating against confectionary-sexuals, I will make you mine, dearest fudge.