Technically, and from an official point of view, it appears that Pixy Stix do indeed expire.
See, if you buy Pixy Stix in the store or on eBay or at the movie theater (is that a thing?) or wherever, and if you look hard, you’ll find an expiration date stamped somewhere on them:
But there are a couple of complicating factors here.
Pixy Stix Don’t Exist
OK, I mean I guess they exist. You can buy them at all those places I listed up there.
You can also buy them online at OldTimeCandy.com (affiliate link), where they might come to you looking like this:
Looks pretty real, huh?
Maybe, but something’s not right here …
I spent the first *rubs hand across mouth as he speaks* years of my life eating, or at least remembering eating Pixie Stix.
P … I … X … I … E
No idea what a “Pixy” is.
Are these not supposed to be like magic wands sprinkling magic twinkling food dust down the gullets of kids of all ages?
And what singular being moves about in a cloud of magic twinkling dust? Right … a pixie.
I ate Pixie Stix.
Except, look back at even old, old ads, and you’ll find a disturbance in The Force:
So, is this the Mandela effect in action, or is there a real Pixie-cum-Pixy conspiracy afoot?
Or am I just old and forgetful, “remembering” the world as I want it to be.
I don’t know, and I don’t care, really (though I really do … I’ll get to the bottom of this if it takes me all night — or until bedtime at eight).
That’s because the second complication trumps everything else.
You Won’t Care If Pixy Stix Expire
The time will come when you’re rooting through your root cellar on a Saturday morning, looking for something sweet and sticky to munch on while you watch Captain Caveman.
After you kick aside a few potatoes eyeing you from a dark corner and rummage through the cans of yams and spinach you’re saving for a fallout day … you give up.
But after you trudge back up the steps and reach for the light switch, something wiggles its way out from between the door facing and the wall.
No, not a rat — a Grape Pixy Stix. It may even be a Pixie Stix.
Left there by whatever intrepid soul lived in your house, or in your root cellar, however many years before.
You pick up the sweetie and hold it up to the single incandescent light burning above you.
There, stamped on the side in fading ink is the expiration date — Apr 1962.
Your first impulse is to ditch it, trash it, burn it, destroy it.
It’s ancient — poison, maybe!
But then … well, it’s a Pixy Stix.
Nothing but sugary and neon goodness. Timeless, right?
So you pluck it from its hidey-hole and cradle it to your chest as you shuffle to the couch. You click on the TV, where Cavie is already pulling elephants out of his fur.
You plunk down on the overstuffed cushions and hold the Pixie Stix up to the light again.
Nineteen sixty-two wasn’t that long ago really … right?
So … what do you do?
I’ll let you finish that story for yourself, but I know what I would do. And just the fact that you’re considering downing 60-year-old candy tells you all you need to know about the glory of Pixy Stix. (PIXIE!)
Pixy or Pixie, you can buy the Stix at OldTimeCandy.com (affiliate link)