~ Pancreatic Failure ~

I have a problem.  (Okay, okay, I know I have several problems, but cut me some slack here for the sake of this discussion, Homer.)

(Is it alright if I call you Homer?)

My dear friend Vicki, who I thought loved me, has played a horrendous joke on me.  She bought me this:

after hitting the after-Easter sales.

Now the fact that she bought me pastel colored candy corn is not the problem.  Anyone who knows me knows that I am one of the 17 people in the whole northern hemisphere that actually enjoys candy corn.   So that part doesn’t really bug me.  In fact, I’m thrilled she thought of me.

No sir, the problem is that she bought over a half a dozen POUNDS of the stuff:

presumably because she knows I am a total pig and have absolutely no self-control.   My Captain won’t eat it.  My Varmint won’t eat it.  This leaves the lot to Critter and myself.  And being a good mama, I’m not about to let my 10-year-old rot his teeth out.

And I can’t throw it away!  That would go against every cell within me that hails from Scotland.  I….just….can’t….do…it…Jim.

(Is it alright if I call you Jim?)

So what am I to do?  I know it won’t go stale, but like I could ever just let it sit.  C’mon, we’re being real here.  That is simply not happening.

What am I to do?