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Photo by Will Porada on Unsplash

We HAVE to Stop These Immigrants.

We were warned. I knew it was going to happen. Brown immigrants, ruining everything. Sneaking over the border.

Laying waste to all my hard work.

Just can’t close the borders to this evil ugliness.

Just when I thought it was safe to go shopping and find toilet paper.

There they were.

Kinder Bueno bars.

HONESTLY.

Some years ago, having at that point not yet been introduced to Kinder products, I was horse riding in some small town in Argentina. Stopped for a snack and a soda.

They had already infiltrated there. I bought one of the Bueno Bars. Light wafer, hazelnut cream, milk chocolate.

HOLY SHIT.

The entire rest of the time I was in Argentina I would barge into the bodegas and demand their entire supply of Bueno Bars.

You’d think they were laced with heroin (they are, it’s also called sugar).

Their description:

Beneath a blanket of smooth milk chocolate lies a thin, crispy wafer filled with a creamy hazelnut filling, all topped with a delicate, dark chocolate drizzle.

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Kinder Bueno bar Ferrero chocolates (I’m sure they appreciate the free ad)

I used to pack my luggage with them out of Duty Free. Hoard them when I got home. Inhale them on my own time. Like a deeply guilty pleasure.

For years, Kinder hadn’t made it over here from Italy.

KEEP THOSE IMMIGRANTS OUT OF MY COUNTRY.

Just…GAH.

I felt safe. Trump’s policies were working.

Apparently not well enough.

My local Safeway store had Bueno Bar displays (stripped bare, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA).

Clearly they are as essential- or more so- as toilet paper and hand sanitizer.

I found a hidden display near the register.

Only bought four.

Um, four packages of four bars each.

Damned brown immigrants. First, Tim Tams.

Now, Bueno Bars.

At least Cost Plus (where the Tim Tams are) is closed.

Girl’s gotta stock up.
Girl’s gotta eat.

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Photo by Gabrielle Henderson on Unsplash

Written by

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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