200 words in appreciation of Kit Kat

Kit Kat is a rare treat on Halloween as it doesn't typically appear in jumbled bags of "fun-size" candy like its daft and clumsy counterparts Mr. Goodbar and Krackle. Kit Kat's coy scarcity only deepens its allure.

Even its name carries the sleek suggestion of sin. Who could eat that chuckle-head Snickers or the aptly tagged Mounds when the temptress Kit Kat beckons?

Milky Way aspires to such smooth cool.

With its sharp angles and flat surfaces, Kit Kat resembles long, sleek blocks of gold, the name imprinted regally on top (though late comedian Mitch Hedberg would argue that imprint robs you of chocolate). Its construction is no less beauteous to taste, creamy milk chocolate surrounding crisp layers of wafer that give it the faintest resistance.

The valleys are Kit Kat's strength and weakness. To lose them is to have just another block of chocolate rather than a leggy wonder. But they also suggest the unthinkable possibility of sharing. Leave sharing to the scattershot M&Ms, rainbowed sugar pellets for the masses. Just because the Kit Kat lends itself to clean breaks doesn't mean its components are to be distributed. They're to be savored a block at a time. Alone.