On Sunday afternoon, wiping the sleep from my eyes, I opened the back door and, lo! there on my back porch was a three-pound plastic tub of individually-wrapped strawberry Twizzlers. You don't see that every day, believe me, at least not in these parts. Well, I did a little research and found out that, in all likelihood, the candy was left there by the Twizzler Fairy. There was an extensive article about her at Wikipedia. Apparently she flits about the towns and villages looking for people with sad faces and overgrown lawns. Usually the people she gives her Twizzlers to also tend to have an inordinate enjoyment of sweets, are likely to be seen wearing unkempt clothing, they have unclean kitchens, strange musical tastes, flat feet, slight hearing loss in one ear, dull social lives, and leaky pipes in the basement. I don't see how it is then, that she happened to stop at my house. After all, my hearing is just fine.
I like the Twizzler Fairy and hope she comes back again, because my Twizzlers are nearly gone. According to Wikipedia, she can be enticed into coming back again by stocking the refrigerator with Corona and Hershey Kisses.
Snakes on a Plane