Jaclyn Weiand, contributor
According to wikipedia, Cracker Jack discontinued physical prizes in 2016. Did anyone tell me before I started this thrilling piece of investigative journalism about Cracker Jack prizes? Short answer: no. Long answer: hell no! I didn’t learn until AFTER I bought 40 bags of the stuff and went rooting through each bag like the eager racoon of a woman that I am. My efforts were rewarded with 40 download codes for the same mobile game printed on a tiny cardboard square the exact size as a goddamn temporary tattoo. I was livid.
I drove down to the local swap meet to cool off. I’d get my tiny bullshit trinkets one way or another. It was there I met a witchy-looking old woman who lured me to her blanket full of treasures.
“There’s something here for you,” she said mysteriously. “I feel it in my bones.”
Now, I’m the last person who wants an old lady’s bones to be wrong, so I examined each item upon the blanket very carefully. It hurt me to say, but through disappointed tears I sighed, “I’m sorry, but most of these are Nascar commemorative plates, and that’s not really my jam.”
“Oh, ok,” the wise old woman replied. “Do you know anyone who would want 40 bags of very old Cracker Jack?”
Dear reader, I purchased every last bag from her that day and compiled a list of my favorite prizes contained therein.
- Trading cards featuring big-time personal injury lawyers
- A french fry
- Super sticky beanie baby
- Temporary tattoo of a dog
- Permanent tattoo of a dog
- Pocket-sized joke book, but all the jokes are about men getting cheated on by their wives
- A smaller bag of Cracker Jack
- Scratch-and-sniff sticker that smells like a toddler’s hands
- A hula Hoop
- Ben Wa balls
- A dog biscuit
- Some Fiddle Faddle®
- An ancestry mouth swab test
- A picture of myself from the future
The following week I returned to the flea market. I couldn’t find the mysterious old woman anywhere, and decided to ask around.
I described her to stand owners: “Long white hair? Mystical eyes? Little tiddies?”
“Oh!” exclaimed the fellow manning a churro stand. “That’s Janice. Was she bothering you? We told her she’s not allowed to come here anymore. Puts a bunch of her pubes in everything she sells.”