By Jeff Johnson

I always said I’d quit the race at any time. On my own terms. To pursue my other passions. So, today is day one. Welcome to my humble little candy store. The first of many. The innovations in the world of confections that are happening -- that I am making happen -- are frankly mind-blowing. I’m at peace with anything that happens to the government or whatever. I simply don’t have time to engage anymore.

Here’s a sneak peek at my Houston store menu. Always iterating in real time. Responding to the market and its taste buds.

— Catfish whiskers covered in dark chocolate. (These tenderly harvested whiskers shouldn’t be consumed. The chocolate is delicious.)

— Feathers of unknown origin (it doesn’t matter) coated in same.

— Gumdrops, gently dusted with expired tetracycline.

— Edible skin. It’s not really skin. Just thin, “roll-up” style gelatin that looks as if it might have been pulled from an elderly person’s torso. Spooky and sweet.

— Radishes. Ice cold.

— Something like a Milky Way bar, and it really is “milky” looking because instead of chocolate it’s covered in mayonnaise or in some market's tartar sauce. Kind of a “health” bar, actually. Gives you the required jolt of protein to face the day.

— Canned hamburgers, precooked. Comes with “Ted tongs” for less messy eating.

— Buckled parmesan. Just random shards of dry cheese covered in paprika and brown sugar. Comes in a barrel. Near the cash register. Take some and nibble. I won’t tattle.

— De-rabies’ed bat wings, coated in caramel and diced scallions. It’s bat jerky, sort of.

— Newport menthol cigarettes.

— I can get your toddler fitted with an edible cast. Made of butterscotch. Arm, leg. Call ahead.

— Cruz Lips. Mountains of my iconic lips. Bacon-flavored.

— Little hearts with sayings, only they’re not sayings, they’re numbers, and you are given a book that is filled with numbers that you use to cross-reference with your heart to find the correlating saying. Lots of fun. Good for office parties.

— Gum that tastes like a funeral parlor bathroom (and jasmine). I had an intense whiff of something in a funeral parlor in Lubbock once. Made my mouth water. I’ve replicated it here.

— A drink that comes in a pouch like a Capri Sun, only it is movie-theater butter substitute. I literally crave this daily. I’d like to turn this into a slushie-type drink.

— A thing shaped like a Kind bar that has birdseed and dried, coagulated blood from the floor of a poultry slaughterhouse. And a hint of cinnamon.