DENTURE FUDGE

While we were at church a blizzard waltzed through town. Just before church ended the Bishop said, "The parking lot is really fun right now." Our bishop is young and slick roads are not a challenge but a fun ride at the amusement park. It doesn't hurt that he works in construction and drives a truck that could climb cliffs while whistling "Climb Every Mountain," in a monster-truck-whistling sort of way.

We worried that Bentley and Tricia wouldn't come back down but they scoff at slick roads and came anyway. Optimistic youth was everywhere today.

The rest of the kids that weren't here for Christmas came for leftovers and Cindy's Fabulous Spaghetti. We ate and unwrapped gifts, laughed and watched the kids play with their new toys and then we went back into the kitchen around the table. I brought the fudge, caramels and muddy buddies out.

Bentley and Sharee were deep into a discussion about which bike pedals are best, which shoes have the best gripping ability or some such thing. When you get those two biking people going its hard to keep up. Especially since I'm not a biking person and the thought of riding down the street on tires the size of linguine noodles makes me nauseous.

I was washing pans and loading the dishwasher when Tricia and Taylor--who were grouped, along with every single child, around the candy--erupted into laughter,"

Denture fudge," one of them snorted. "It's denture fudge."

"Denture fudge?" one of the kids asked.

"Absolutely! Look at this?"

I had made caramels with almonds at one point of the holiday preparations but they were too large so I dipped them in chocolate and cut them in half. The almonds, sliced in the middle looked just like teeth. Teeth embedded in caramel with chocolate lips. They held the offending candy up for everyone to see. The kids thought it was pretty funny too and their laughter added to the merriment in the kitchen.

Bentley and Sharee talked on, about spokes and camelbaks and bike gears, never noticing the silliness going on at the other end of the table.

Tricia and Taylor got more wound up, deciding how to market the denture fudge and what to add to next year's product line. Each suggestion burst forth with a new round of laughter. How I wish I had recorded all their nonsense. I could have sold it to hospitals with depression clinics. People would be cured after one session of listening to denture fudge laughter. I could market the CD with tins full of chocolate covered caramels with almonds. Two for one. Laughter-therapy and treats. It would be a hit, I'm sure of it. I could be rich. The world would be better off, sad people would be cured and back in the work force. The economy would boom.

It's my fault that we won't have a booming economy next year. If I had just recorded that denture fudge laughter...