Haribo Sugar Free Classic Gummi Bears Reviews on Amazon

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My friend hasn't been practicing social distancing during the pandemic, so I bought him a bag of these gummies for his birthday. It's now been 10 days since he left the house out of fear of pooping himself again. I'm not gonna say Haribo SUGAR FREE Classic Gummi Bears are the cure for the coronavirus, but it certainly helps slow down the spread.

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This was the day my life changed. I bought a bag of these delicious Satan snacks, and they took me back to the past. It took me back to the day Pompeii erupted, instead of lava there was hot brown liquid feces exploding out of what could be the black pit of hell. I was sitting on my toilet, sweaty AF, It felt like I was in a sana after drinking vegi free combucha while being punch in the gut by Arnold Schwarzenegger, the worst part was I didn’t have any toilet paper I questioned myself if I should use my dog to while my sweaty crack of hell, but I’d rather shoot him befor I put him through that hell like place.... all in all 10/10 great gift, would by again

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I thought the things people said about sugar free gummies were exaggerated... what a fool I was. I write this in the hopes that future generations will break the cycle and never have to live through what happened to me in the harrowing hours that were to come.

That night I lay awake in bed, sweating, farting profusely, and unable to sleep because I had to run to the bathroom every few minutes. The stench was incomparable to anything I had ever smelled before. It was like being anally raped in reverse.

To pass the time, I read the article about Hiroshima and Nagasaki on Wikipedia. Perhaps I felt a kinship with the victims of the attacks, because it was like a nuclear bomb had gone off in my bowels. If regular diarrhea is Fat Man and Little Boy, the effect of these villainous bears on my anus was Tsar Bomba.

At one point I recalled Marlon Brando's monologue from Apocalypse Now, and suddenly I understood everything. If I saw my worst enemy approaching a bowl of these I would dive in front of it to save them from the horror of what I experienced on that black day. Woe betide anyone who fails to heed my warnings.

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I weighed 189 before I ate these, I'm now a skeleton

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I was in a financial pinch, having just paid our taxes. With what little money left under the seats of our couch, I was able to scrunge up around 10.00. As you can tell, its been years since we've cleaned our couch. 25 years to be exact. So $10 dollars is a reasonable find.

As I went to the store to purchase some medicine, I had to only the $10 from the couch, but MiraLax was $11, with tax, but these gummies, free 2-day shipping, I knew this was a win-win.

Only waiting just 2 days, the prized gummies made their way to my door. Just the opening smell from the bag, made my bowels rumble like a UCF fight. I knew this would do the trick. Forget Miralax, this stuff is the JAM!

My intestines want to specifically thank Haribo and their Anti-Sugar stance. These outperform any modern medicine when you need to be "on-the-go".

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I sit here writing this review at 4AM from my porcelain throne, a fixture you will become all too familiar with if you chose to eat these cute little bears from the pits of hell. I had to eat a pound of these little bastards after Man City must've thought they were playing American football the other week, and lost to a team of Arsenal scrubs. They were a bit chewy but overall, appeared to be nothing more than your average gummy bears. After about 2 hours with little more than some mild stomach cramps, feeling like one would expect from eating a pound of any candy, I began to wonder if I'd gotten some duds. Like the slow build-up of a Martin Scorsese film however, those bears were waiting for their baptism scene to destroy my insides. It started with the cramping, very akin to doing 1,000 crunches and then being forced to hold the 1,001st crunch indefinitely. Then came the initial "run" which opened the proverbial flood gates. I'm over 30 and I'm beginning to wonder if these bears know that and want to send me back to the can for each year I've been on this earth to make me wonder why I'd ever been born. In between gastrointestinal bouts of pressure washing the inside of my toilet from my anus, I lay in bed feeling as if someone were to punch me in the stomach, I'd explode, turning the walls of my bedroom into a soiled Jackson Pollock rendition. To give you an idea, I'd spent $50 ordering a UFC pay-per-view only to willingly miss the last 2-3 fights on the main card because I didn't want to stray too far from my master bathroom. Thankfully for me (and my marriage), fearing what might be coming, I convinced my wife to spend the evening at my sister-in-laws because trust me fellas, nothing will be gained from your significant other experiencing this with you. I'm no longer in pain but am still having to make trips back to my master bath on a regular basis. Eat these if you dare but be forewarned, they are not to be trifled with unless you want your toilet to be a staging ground for repeat fecal rehearsals of "The Red Wedding" from Game of Thrones.

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