"You remind me of Donny Osmond. But it just might be because I am drunk".

My friends wait outside eating their food as I wait for my food next to an inebriated Scot. The chip shop was closing for the night, the slowly rotating "leg" of meat was being enclosed up in plastic wrap for the night. Only a few fried sausages remained in the display case.

I waited expectantly for the Scottish delicacy I have heard about since I came to Edinburgh.

"Are you really ordering that?"

My confidence in my culturally culinary choice was beginning to wane.

I had heard about it from friends and classmates. It has cousins in county fairs and relatives in fast food. Some have said it is disgusting while others claim it is delicious.

Either case I cannot pass up unique and local foods.

I got a brief glimpse of my delicate midnight snack as it was wrapped in nondescriptbrown paper. I stepped into the warm spring night and met with my friends as we headed back with our prizes of the night.

I opened the paper and looked at what I had bought. A rare delicacy of Scotland, a delight to behold I hesitantly took my first bite of my battered mars bar.

A chocolate exterior mingled with the melting caramel while holding the gaze of the crpe-like batter encompassing the attention of this bar of pure flavor.

As I finished I felt my heart stiffen and my arteries scream.

I felt time being cut off the end of my life.

I awoke this morning craving another.