EJ and I found this egg Friday night outside Mary Markley. There was candy inside, but EJ wouldn't let me eat it. Apparently it's gauche to eat candy you find on the street.
During a long, late night roadtrip, I bought some porkrinds at the gas station. I dropped one on the ground outside, moved with cat-like reflexes to pick it up before it spent more than two seconds on the ground, and popped it in my mouth like nothing happened. My wife didn't talk to me for five hours in the car.
My objection was less that it had been on the ground and more that you may have been interfering with someone else's Easter egg hunt.
That's why I was just going to eat some of the candy.