Our parents taught us right. Promise. As kids, we’d walk up to the neighbor’s stoop on Halloween, ring the doorbell, open our pillowcases, say “Trick or Treat!” and smile as Mr. So and So tossed candies in. We did not say, “Aw gross, not those ones!” We thanked him and skipped away.
That evening, we’d unload a heap of candy on the kitchen table, sorting out favorites. Snickers. Starburst. Skittles. The good ones never lasted long. The gross ones sat at the bottom of the candy jar for a month, two, three, until Mom tossed them and we never noticed.
Now that we’re grown-ups, we’re here to politely say “no thank you” to the candies we just don’t like. If you’re digging into a metaphorical candy jar of our hearts, you’ll find these orphaned sweets at the bottom:
These waxy sugar bombs are the ultimate womp womp when they land in your trick-or-treat bag. Don’t agree? You’re not alone: One study said it was Texans’ favorite candy in 2015. That can’t be true, guys. (What about chocolate? What about Sour Patch Kids? What about literally anything else?) Candy corn is a chalky orange triangle pretending to be a vegetable. No. -- Sarah Blaskovich
It’s not the flavor of Milk Duds that earn them a hard pass -- it’s the experience of eating them. Eating candy is supposed to be fun, but picking these sticky bits of chocolate off the molars is not only unattractive, it’s downright annoying. Every kid has felt the panic of thinking his or her teeth might be glued together by a Milk Dud, and as an adult, those memories still haunt. Why settle for this candy when there are so many other delicious chocolate ones out there? -- Tiney Ricciardi
If you think picking Milk Duds residue out of your teeth is difficult, do yourself a favor and step away from the Jolly Rancher candies. Their flavor isn’t offensive -- the cherry and green apple ones are actually pretty tasty -- but the way the sticky, hard candies cement your teeth together makes you fear you have lockjaw. I’m fairly certain they were created by a consortium of evil dentists looking to build vacation homes in the Alps. Even on Jolly Rancher's website, it exclaims "Our Candy Sucks!" Yep. -- Sara Frederick Burgos
These things do not melt in your mouth. But they do melt in your hands, and that’s just one of the utterly abhorrent things I can attach to this hot mess they call candy. They're a danger to car interiors everywhere. Plus, they smell like old Cheetos. And like feet -- ones that have just played four quarters after slogging through a swamp. For some reason, maybe it’s that incessant jingle, people insist on sharing them. Don’t break me off a piece of your Kit Kat bar. -- Dawn M. Burkes
I’ll eat almost any candy, even the less beloved ones, but not Hot Tamales. It’s not cinnamon I dislike: You know those old-fashioned discs in your great-grandma’s purse? I like them. Hot Tamales, on the other hand, are totally visually ambiguous. Like, I could accidentally get a sweet cherry or sour strawberry surprise if someone spiked the box with wayward Mike and Ikes. Hot Tamales make me suspicious. Plus, they smell gross on someone else’s breath, and so does Big Red gum, which is the opposite point of its entire existence. Yeah, I said it. Artificial cinnamon breath stinks. -- Brentney Hamilton