Bill Whalen says, “A number of years ago the New York Times Magazine did a series on this genre. Here’s an effort I submitted (it was not published….)”

In his retirement, in an effort to add to his comfort, Ferdinand Feghoot took a position as companion to an elderly country priest. They enjoyed each other’s company and got along well.

Feghoot would handle many of the chores around the house, shopping and cleaning and preparing the meals. His room mate was fond of candy, especially a certain type called “Bonomo’s Turkish Taffy.” The priest had lost all of his teeth — due to the candy habit — and had a terrible time eating the taffy unless it was broken up into small pieces.

(Bonomo’s, if you remember, was a lot like “silly putty” — it would stretch and stretch if pulled, but it would also break into shards if struck a good blow.)

Anyway, Feghoot could never remember if the candy should be pulled or broken, so each time, after he had prepared the candy for his friend, he’d have to ask, “Parson, me boy: is that the shattered nougat you’ll chew?”