The American shop up the street (they import junk food and sell it to students attending the American University of Paris and French folk looking for gag gifts for their colleagues [all I’m going to say is that it involved a box of macaroni and cheese, and that I wish I understood more French, because the part that I did understand was hilarious]) carries peeps, as we found when we walked by the other day.
I enjoy peeps.
The Purrito is of the opinion that they’d be well-represented in the pantries of hell.
These things taste terrible. And awesome.