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While out and about, you manage to obtain a cute cooking pot designed to look like a witch's cauldron. It's a little eccentric but wanting to get in the spirit of things, you or a loved one obtain it and food is prepared in it, be it for a personal or social gathering.

Only... anything made in this pot tastes startling of candy corn. Regardless of whether you finish your homemade treat, you find that no matter what you eat or drink, everything for the next twenty-four hours tastes exactly like candy corn. The strange thing is, this only seems to happen once. After you've given it a good scrub, it doesn't seem to have the same effect ever again.

It was cute. Actually it was really cute. Hecking dang cute as the internet would say. He took a picture for his Instagram account before he bought it, showing it off first before he got to using it. After all. What good was having social media if you didn’t use it to show every last detail and aspect of your life off? Nothing, that the value of social media if not used as intended. To scream into the void that was existence and not beg for validation.
But those thoughts were for another time, and, a deeper multi-layered meme that years later cryptologists would scream and tear out their hair in chunks over. Future problems.
Now, Winston just thought to get a ******** cute a** pot in the shape of a witch’s cauldron and use it to make some soup in. Pumpkin soup of course. Spirit of the holidays and all that. That was the plan and like all plans, he captured this also for his followers. He tagged every step, showing it from start to finish. When he was done however, Winston noticed that somewhere along the line there had been a terrible, god awful mistake.
Somehow, his soup ended up tasting like candy corn. He dared not to mention this to anyone, least of all his 500+ followers, so he faked it. Fake how delicious it was, how he was going to save it. No- the candy corn tasting squash soup was poured down the drain so fast it gave him whiplash. Rest in pipes soup, he hardly wanted to know ye.

Winston thought the candy corn was just the soup but no. Luck would determine the bad taste would haunt him like a bad 90s catchy pop synth tune his gran would play to think she was hip with the kids. Sticking around, unwanted, long after it was over. That cloyingly sweet artificial honey refined sugar taste with a waxy overtone just refused to abate, and even brushing his teeth and gargling, swirling, and spitting, refused to rid him of the flavor. He nearly wept when his pork roast also tasted of the cruel confectionary devil’s corn.

It was his own fault he reasoned. He did something and now the sensory memory had just stuck with him. So- Winston went to town on that pot. He soaked it overnight, gave it a scrub down that would have ripped off all 9 skins on the lindwurm and then soaked it again. He was determined to get whatever lingering chemical hell flavor that remained in the pot was gone. This time, he was going to try and make a simple miso soup. Because that came out candy corn, he knew that the pot was curse. If not, maybe it was a one off thing. He made sure this time to not post it online, (mostly out of shame and fear), but when it came to taste test?
The man yelled in victory. It had been a one off thing.