Never have. So, shoot me. Something about gooey marshmallow rolled in crunchy sugar. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Literally. Every year at Easter, store shelves are filled with these little boxes of neatly packed marshmallow chicks just staring blindly at you from behind their cellophane wrappings. Ewwww! If you ask me, they live right up there in Yucksville with Gummy Bears and Chuckles.
But wait, I thought. What if these little Peeps are simply missing out on something? Something good. Something dark. Something smooth. Something really good.