Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox Means Meals Nevermore Morose

Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox

Did Mom pack this thing with tuna salad on white bread again, or will there be something more delectable contained within? Quoth the Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox, “Nevermore.” [Image shared by Amazon]

Happy Halloween! Will you — or maybe your tiny offspring — be trick or treating this year? I’m going out on the town in my clever disguise of Guy Way Too Old to Be Trick or Treating, and I’ll be filling my Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox with handfuls of sweet, sweet candy. Please don’t tell my dentist (he dresses like a Cavity Creep and hands out toothbrushes to the neighborhood kids every single year).

If there ever were a patron saint of Halloween, it could very well be Edgar Allan Poe, the American author who made a name for himself as a master of the macabre during his 40 short years of earthly residence. And if you don’t entirely agree with that statement, perhaps you’ll at least concede that the way we celebrate Halloween today wouldn’t be quite the same without his influence — living on long past when the man himself shuffled off his mortal coil for reasons not entirely known way back in 1849. Also living on is the rich tradition of lunch, which is celebrated in the middle of every day of every year in most schools around the globe. Why not celebrate Halloween and lunch in one fell swoop by picking up a snazzy Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox of your own?

Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox Great for Celebrating Any Poe-Related Occasion. Or Lunch.

I do realize that it’s a little late to be putting this idea out there today, but there’s always next year. Be prepared! And aside from Halloween, you could honor the memory of the man on other occasions, such as his birthday (January 19th) or, perhaps more appropriately, the anniversary of his death (October 7th). R.I.P., E.A.P. It’s a well-known fact that a mysterious figure known as the Poe Toaster would annually bring toast — procured from his or her own Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox — to leave at the author’s original Baltimore grave for three quarters of a century. Poe loved toast.

And while the Poe Toaster hasn’t appeared at the lonely grave site for the past few years, perhaps you could revive the tradition? It’s a thought.

This hollow chunk of solid metal is 8″ x 7″ x 4″ (that’s 20.3 cm x 17.8 cm x 10.2 cm for every non-American on the planet) and will store, say, a container — if not a whole cask — of Amontillado for washing down whatever’s lunch to fill the pit (but maybe not the pendulum) of your stomach. When not in use, you can set the Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox right next to your pallid bust of Pallas so that you’ll always know where it is.

Nevermore eat a boring meal again! Pack it in your own Edgar Allan Poe Lunchbox today!

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Our resident "Bob" (pictured here through the lens of photographer Jason DeFillippo) is in love with a woman who talks to animals. He has a fondness for belting out songs about seafaring and whiskey (arguably inappropriate in most social situations). He's arm-wrestled robots and won. He was born in a lighthouse on the storm-tossed shores of an island that has since been washed away and forgotten, so he's technically a citizen of nowhere. He's never killed in anger. He once underwent therapy for having an alien in his face, but he assures us that he's now feeling "much better." Fogarty also claims that he was once marooned along a tiny archipelago and survived for months using only his wits and a machete, but we find that a little hard to believe.