my name is Hansel.

The taste is completely different from a Gummi Bear, yet somehow familiar. It's much sweeter than a Gummi Bear.
- Wow.
And softer, too.
- I feel so optimistic.
I suddenly recognised the flavour in my mouth -- it's the taste of power.
- Damn, Hansel. I can't believe you're not a girl. You're so fine. Why don't you take the whole bag?
He searches my face for news of his fate. His expression is echoed in scores of tiny faces, pressing against clear plastic, panting faces of every imaginable colour, creed, non-Aryan origin, fogging up the bag Iike the windows of a Polish bathhouse. I stumbled naked through the ruins, back towards blander, less complicated confections, Ieaving in my way a trail of rainbow carnage.

(MICTHELL, John Cameron)