Bubble Witch Saga 3 Check out Santa's new ride Salon Beauty Best Books of the Year Cyber Monday Deals Week nav_sap_plcc_ascpsc For a limited time. 3 months for $0.99. Amazon Music Unlimited. New subscribers only. Terms and conditions apply. STEM $24.99 for a limited time only Try it first with samples Handmade Gift Shop Home and Garden Book a house cleaner for 2 or more hours on Amazon TheBigSick TheBigSick TheBigSick  Echo Show Cyber Monday Deals: Fire tablets starting at $29.99. Limited-time offer. $30 off Kindle Paperwhite GNO Shop Now HTL17_gno



on October 3, 2012
Oh man...words cannot express what happened to me after eating these. The Gummi Bear "Cleanse". If you are someone that can tolerate the sugar substitute, enjoy. If you are like the dozens of people that tried my order, RUN!

First of all, for taste I would rate these a 5. So good. Soft, true-to-taste fruit flavors like the sugar variety...I was a happy camper.

BUT (or should I say BUTT), not long after eating about 20 of these all hell broke loose. I had a gastrointestinal experience like nothing I've ever imagined. Cramps, sweating, bloating beyond my worst nightmare. I've had food poisoning from some bad shellfish and that was almost like a skip in the park compared to what was going on inside me.

Then came the, uh, flatulence. Heavens to Murgatroyd, the sounds, like trumpets calling the demons back to Hell...the stench, like 1,000 rotten corpses vomited. I couldn't stand to stay in one room for fear of succumbing to my own odors.

But wait; there's more. What came out of me felt like someone tried to funnel Niagara Falls through a coffee straw. I swear my sphincters were screaming. It felt like my delicate starfish was a gaping maw projectile vomiting a torrential flood of toxic waste. 100% liquid. Flammable liquid. NAPALM. It was actually a bit humorous (for a nanosecond)as it was just beyond anything I could imagine possible.

AND IT WENT ON FOR HOURS.

I felt violated when it was over, which I think might have been sometime in the early morning of the next day. There was stuff coming out of me that I ate at my wedding in 2005.

I had FIVE POUNDS of these innocent-looking delicious-tasting HELLBEARS so I told a friend about what happened to me, thinking it HAD to be some type of sensitivity I had to the sugar substitute, and in spite of my warnings and graphic descriptions, she decided to take her chances and take them off my hands.

Silly woman. All of the same for her, and a phone call from her while on the toilet (because you kinda end up living in the bathroom for a spell) telling me she really wished she would have listened. I think she was crying.

Her sister was skeptical and suspected that we were exaggerating. She took them to work, since there was still 99% of a 5 pound bag left. She works for a construction company, where there are builders, roofers, house painters, landscapers, etc. Lots of people who generally have limited access to toilets on a given day. I can't imagine where all of those poor men (and women) pooped that day. I keep envisioning men on roofs, crossing their legs and trying to decide if they can make it down the ladder, or if they should just jump.

If you order these, best of luck to you. And please, don't post a video review during the aftershocks.

PS: When I ordered these, the warnings and disclaimers and legalese were NOT posted. I'm not a moron. Also, not sure why so many people assume I'm a man. I am a woman. We poop too. Of course, our poop sparkles and smells like a walk in a meadow of wildflowers. Thanks for all the great comments. I've been enjoying reading them and so glad that the horror show I experienced from snacking on these has at least made some people smile.
5150+ comments| 63,981 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on July 22, 2017
Mother-in-law is diabetic and has a colostomy bag. We're always careful to get her sugar-free candy when her sweet tooth starts acting up. Up until now, we've had great luck......up until now. We got her this bag of gummy bears for her to snack on. She tried a few and really liked them. Unfortunately, I hadn't read the reviews on this product, so didn't think she needed to pace herself. Boy, were we wrong! It only took a couple of hours, and she started screaming bloody murder. We walked in, only to see her colostomy bag completely full. So full, in fact, that you could thump it and it sounded like a melon. We tried to pinch off the tube so that we could quickly change the bag. The contents of her stomach were so watery that no amount of "pinch" would stop it. We quickly helped her into the bathroom, hoping we could disconnect the tube, and aim straight for the toilet. When we did, it was like a freakin', brown geyser from Hell!! Covered in watery fecal matter, we capped it off as fast as we could, only to have the bag immediately fill back up. We didn't know what else to do, so we put her in the shower. My wife tried to help her out of her clothes, but the bag kept expanding. We heard this stretching, gutteral sound of the bag expanding, when we closed the shower door, and yelled, "YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, MA!!", then proceeded to slam the bathroom door shut, and ran. Over her screaming, we finally heard an explosion. What can only be described as a "fecal Hiroshima" was all we saw when we opened the door. Ma-in-law had collapsed and passed out in the shower floor, covered in her own watery excrement. It was all over the shower walls and ceiling, and had easily ricocheted off the ceiling into the bathroom area. We called 911 for assistance. When they arrived and assessed the situation, it was like a scene out of "Outbreak". They hung a massive plastic sheet that covered the entire exterior of the house. People in hazmat suits were coming in and out. I even saw some of them vomiting. One of the tougher guys came out and told us that he'd never seen anything like it, even during 3 tours in 'Nam. He then cried like a baby.

I'm just glad we tried these on the mother-in-law before anyone else got hurt. While she was in the hospital recovering, I took her some flowers and a card that read, "Get well soon!" And then added, "And thanks for taking one for the team!" She hasn't spoken to me since.
review image
22 comments| 180 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on March 20, 2017
So I bought a 5lb bag seeing if these little bastards held up to the Haribo sugar free bears and boy...they did not disappoint. Having 5 is the happy medium, you get to snack on some yummy treats without the worry of soiling yourself. Anything over 5...you're on your own and may God be with you! Full Disclosure: I am writing this review on my toilet, where I have been off and on for the past 3 hours. Today at work, I decided that I would be a brave boy and push the limits of my body. So I ate roughly 25-30 of these cyanide pills.

2 Hours Later

What I can only describe as someone with a voodoo doll twisting me in half, hits me. "Ok boys, I'm headed home" I shout to my coworkers. I make it to my truck as the cramping intensifies. "Manageable" I say to myself, "I can surely make the 15 minute trip home." Approximately 30 seconds later, I am sitting inside of a plastic shopping bag, completely convinced that I will not make it home.

I MADE IT!!! I gingerly walk into my home and up the stairs, all the while the sounds of a horribly executed exorcism are playing out in my twisted up gut. The second that I touch porcelain what can only be compared to dropping a Mentos into a 2 liter of Diet Coke followed. Unfortunately, this was just the beginning. Over the past 3 hours, the eruptions have been coming at a steady pace. My toilet/ass must be feeling what the Allied forces felt like against the German Blitzkrieg.

The horrendous sound of demons screaming in your gut, is like an alarm clock without the snooze button. Do not lollygag when you hear them chant, you just run. And this should go without saying, under NO CIRCUMSTANCES trust a fart! I cannot stress that last part enough. I hope that you heed my warnings and prepare properly. Treat this as if it were a blizzard and stock up on just TP, forget the milk unless you are lactose intolerant and want the ultimate flush.

All in all I give this product 5/5 stars and would recommend this to a friend. I am currently placing an order for another 5lb bag...
77 comments| 718 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on October 3, 2013
The reviews are so helpful. It is so difficult to be sure you are buying something over the internet that is exactley what you are searching for.
.
I am sending a bag of these to every member of Congress to show my deepest gratitude.
5150+ comments| 15,259 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on November 21, 2013
I'm pretty sure Andrea (I'll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because I always spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-school German. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But the fact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquire about the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make me appealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.
My intentions, however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shopping that night was done at one of those upscale groceries with an international flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler as anything I can cook, and isn't that hard to pull off. But still, I was busy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweets aisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn't immediately notice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which are designed for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (which are designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punish uncooperative inmates).
I shan't make that mistake again. (notice you can't spell SHAN'T without SHAT.)
Prior to Andrea's arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist of make-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in a decorative bowl because I am fancy.
The doorbell rang, and within minutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of us probably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability to communicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least of my worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to dance to young people's music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompanied by a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my own voice.
Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my language lessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblings sound like German words.
"ENTSCHULDIGUNG!" was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response.
"Sind Sie Kaffee machen?" she asked.
Am I making coffee?
I thought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realized that yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily be mistaken for the percolating of some bachelor's crappy coffeemaker.
It's remarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumatic pottymaking experience. Maybe that's the body's way of buying you the precious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of steps to the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift the lid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.
She's going to hear EVERYTHING!
Thanks to an acoustical idiosyncrasy in my building, the hallway outside the bathroom works as an amplifier pointed straight at my living room-slash-kitchen. So that somehow even the gentlest tinkle sounds like I'm pouring lemonade out of a bucket.
With only half an idea of what I was doing, I grabbed Andrea's hand and pulled her roughly down onto my sofa. I must have looked like a madman as I booted up my iTunes playlist, plugged in the gigantic new headphones I had just bought to keep me looking young and hip, and clamped them down over her ears. (the sweat forming on my brow and upper lip couldn't have helped.) In response to her nervous expression, I kept shouting "You'll love this! You'll love this!"
I spun her around so that she was looking out the window. My "plan" was that she'd be so distracted by the modest 4th floor view, that it would allow me to pull my pants off while I sprinted down the hall, silently singing the praises of the noise-reducing quality of my new headphones. (this story will be reprinted in its entirety as a 5 star review on the Sony Beats Audio Amazon page.)
As I slammed the bathroom door shut, already half naked, it occurred to me that I had not been shouting "You'll love this!" at Andrea. I don't even know how to say that in German. In my desperation I had been saying "Ich Leibe Dich!" Repeatedly professing my love for her in a shaky and frantic voice. But maybe that was a good thing, because as I threw myself at the toilet, I figured the best I could hope for is that she would be so creeped-out that she would sneak out of the apartment, blissfully unaware of the carnage taking place in the next room.
What can I say about the ensuing white-knuckle bowel movement that hasn't been expressed in other reviews on this page? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen the adjective "Kafkaesque" used anywhere else.
By the end of Act One of this private little torture-porn movie, I was confessing to every unsolved crime in history. Praying I would stumble upon the one that would satisfy my invisible captors.
Quickly I realized that I had more than Andrea's sense of sound to worry about. Were she to get even the faintest whiff of the weapons-grade sluice that my anus was angrily shouting into the porcelain, I would have to change my name and move to another city.
And so I flushed. And flushed. And flushed and flushed.
And then I flushed and nothing happened.
I have never looked down into a broken toilet with more horror in my entire life. And I once stopped up George Clooney's crapper! (a true story for another time.)
I reached for the plunger, but my hand froze and my heart seized when I saw it on the floor, broken in two and covered in what looked like teeth marks. Apparently I had used the wooden handle to keep from biting my tongue off and had chewed clean through it. When did that happen? It seems my mind had already started the process of repressing this entire event.
Amid the feverish, fruitless dance I did across my tiny bathroom floor, it dawned on me that it had been more than a minute since my last soul-wrenching anal tantrum. Dear Lord, is it over? I asked, quite possibly aloud.
I may have been light-headed and delusional, but I began to imagine a non-ignominious resolution to this ordeal. I just needed to get her the hell out of here. If Andrea hadn't fled the building, vomiting in terror, then I supposed I could pull up my trousers and make a cavalier exit. As long as I could get her off premises and as far away from this post-apocalyptic commode as humanly possible. Assuming that the Diarrhistas had retreated to the hills temporarily, maybe I could even whisk Andrea away to a candlelight dinner at Bernardo's. How impulsive!
My first few steps back toward the living room were tentative. And not just because my sphincter felt raw and tattered. It was a slow approach to the Moment of Truth, especially when I saw her figure still planted on my sofa. I knew any look on Andrea's face other than her mouth agape would constitute a miraculous victory. And when she smiled at me, the wash of relief that engulfed me was more glorious than any throes of ecstasy I might have wished for at the beginning of the night.
And then I saw it.
The decorative bowl sitting in her lap. Down to just the last few sugarless Gummi bears.
"Du hast Haribo!" she said to me. Accompanied by a satisfied smile. A big, beaming Hansel and Gretel smile, that slightly turned down in one corner at the sound we both suddenly heard. A low rumble from deep within her GI tract that sounded like Gefahrrrrr.
The German word for Danger.
Her eyes shot past mine and refocused on the bathroom door just down the hall behind me.
5150+ comments| 20,941 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on July 28, 2017
The reviews are true! You will poop your brains out. I'm evil and gave them away at Mardi Gras. Never take candy from strangers!
11 comment| 86 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on February 19, 2016
I love Gummi Bears. They are God’s sweet nectar. What I did not know is that, like all things that are good in this world, they have an equally evil counterpart, the Haribo Sugar-Free Gummy Bears. While I understand that balance is necessary in a morally mixed world, I had no idea how much horror evil could cause, especially one with such a happy, smiling bear-like face. Now, I know. This evil counterpart is clearly one of Lucifer’s sycophants, cleverly disguised in a childlike, gelatinous form.

It all started with a trip I was taking with my 6-year old son, to the beach. We were headed to the beach at Gulf Shores, from Texas on I-10. This is extremely important (and was extremely unfortunate). I drive two-seater pickup so he had to sit in the front with me on a kids seat that raises him up about 4 inches.

Anyhow, we’re in Louisiana when we come up to signs for the Atchafalaya Bridge where I force him to pee at a local gas station. it was beyond nasty, it looked like desperate truck drivers, homeless locals and swamp rats had desecrated and abandoned the place just long enough to create a smell that would make even cockroaches throw up in their mouths a little. My son fights me but I know that we’re about to cross one of the longest bridges in the world and there’s no place to stop.

Back on the road, he says, “I’m hungry daddy” and, being the cool dad, I pull out that sweet-faced poison. I immediately start shoveling them into my mouth without looking, assuming these are my regular friends. My son has one and grimaces. He must have noticed the lack of real sugar in his favorite snack. It's a hint I should have taken. Make all the jokes you want about hindsight. I’m not laughing.

The first sign came at about 5 miles onto the bridge when I felt a seemingly small bout of flatulence coming on. This is a bit embarrasing but As fathers are wont to do, I played one of my favorite father-son games I affectionately call, “pull my finger.” It’s a surefire winner with the boy every time. At this point, I’ve eaten my way through what I now estimate to be about a pound of the malevolent little creatures and they’re about to show their true faces.

I feel a few bubbles but disregard them. The pressure is building and the time for the game is now or never. I say the magic words “pull my finger.” Looking back, they seemed to come from my lips in ultra-slow motion, like a Robin Williams imitation. As I replay it, I try to stop myself but I can’t. My right finger is already extended and the knowing smile on his face is already there. He knows (or thinks he knows) what’s coming.

So he pulls on my finger and opens the door to hell.

The timing and irony could not have been more perfect as I release a long fluttering sound and smell that quickly fills the cab. “Daddy, that was gross. Is that the swamp or you?” He asks innocently. I glance into his watering eyes and realize he is serious. It hits my nose too and have to slam on the brakes to make sure I don’t hit the cars in front of me. I can no longer see them due to my own pungent stench, which has caused me to go momentarily blind.

Meanwhile, the farting has amazingly and inexplicably continued.

It’s getting worse and he begs me to stop but I can’t. I try to tuck my cheeks under and in but nothing helps. Then, the sound turns from farting to gurgling. I pull my hand away from the attempted tuck and my hands are moist. I feel my pants filling with a soggy warmth that seems to come from nowhere. My bowels have become the bowels of hell and nothing will abate them. I have no control of my bodily functions. The air-smell becomes the solid smell and I suddenly wish for the smell of the fart, because it smells like spring-fresh roses and clean linen compared to what now fills the cab. My son is in full cry mode now. The only thing that raises his terror level to red is the fact that my intense brown leakage has filled my jeans and has overflowed onto the seat, edging its way toward him. He cringes away and I can only look on helpless as it edges its way toward him like that only 50’s Blob movie. I’m still driving as I leak but I have to stick a leftover napkin in my nostrils so my eyes won’t water and I can see. Fortunately, he’s raised up by his kid’s seat.

Then I see sweet relief up ahead. The Atchafalaya Welcome Center. I jump out and run like one of those wind-up toy soldiers that have no knees and just bobble back and forth from toe to toe. Suddenly, all of those penguin comparisons you guys made in these reviews make perfect sense. I’m guessing that the back side of my jeans look something like an unwrapped Mr. Goodbar, but this is no time for pretense. I can feel the spray flickering from my socks as the chocolate pudding (or should I say puddling) - makes its way from the bottom of my jeans. I think I see the bathroom and run toward it in my toy soldier bounce, cheeks clinched, one arm covering my nose and face, the other attempting to squeeze my cheeks even further together, all the while thinking , “Why won’t it STOP!?”

Then I stop, because I see the worst sign ever. CLOSED. The whole place is closed for some kind of maintenance. Can’t they see that I NEED MAINTENANCE? I bang on the door and realize there’s no getting in. I see my son, who I virtually forgot, watching me from a smell-safe distance. I grab some local newspaper from a nearby stand and try to wipe myself off, making it worse. I grab the whole stack and walk toward the truck as I feel the cauldron start to bubble again. I wipe off the truck as best as possible and lay down newspaper, like a humiliated puppy. My son has no choice but to sit, carefully perched criss-cross applesauce (please, no applesauce jokes. This is my life, here) on his kids’ seat so that he doesn’t touch the crime scene. We start to head back the way we came.

I start to feel it coming on again and try to take a food inventory. “How could it still be coming out? There’s wasn’t that much food. The only thing in sight 10 miles and 2 blowouts later is that nasty gas station. I have no choice. I stop the car and go, tell my son to wait outside. This won’t be pretty. At this point, he’s numb, the snot from crying has thankfully clogged his nose.

I go into the hellish ruins of a bathroom and yank my pants down. Another blowout happens before I reach the pot, spraying the wall like a blood splatter episode of Dexter. The one noticeable difference is that, buried in that spray are slightly chewed, smiling, jello-from-hell gummy bears. You can laugh but it was as if they physically crawled their way through my digestive system to escape my anal cavity after wreaking the havoc that only they could cause.

I will never eat gummy bears again. And make no mistake- they are evil.
22 comments| 342 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on December 9, 2016
Get ready to put $300 down. Youll need to call a plumber...
0Comment| 228 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on August 5, 2016
I recently attended the birthday party of my little sister. What I’m about to tell you has been modified for suitable internet use, but parent supervision is still recommended. Anyway, on with the story.

It happened on a warm summer day in the middle of July. The party was at a park, (the ones with the tiny dirty bathroom facilities) and the theme was candyland. My sister wore a sparkly pink dress that was supposed to be a gumdrop, and a few kids came in with clever costumes of candy, bless their hearts.

As a good brother, I felt obligated to purchase some candy for the party. Being a regular shopper of Amazon, I found these Haribo Gummy Bears and decided they would do, considering they were a 5 lb bag. What I did not consider was that aliens genetically engineered these bears to take out all sugar and thus make them unfit for human consumption. This we all learned later.

When I got there, all the kids were flirting about all happy, oh how I wish I could see them smile again. I poured my candy into a bowl and set it up on a main table, and soon kids came by like butterflies to eat the savory bears.

To say the gummies don’t taste good would be a lie, these taste just like their EDIBLE cousins. And at first, no one noticed the difference. The first to fall was my own mother. Years of healthy eating and juicing, her stomach never was able to handle much sweets. And now of all times she decided to try candy. I’m sorry mom. Within 10 minutes, her stomach was growling over the din of the children, and she went on a hunt to see what could have caused her stomach to be upset. Upon finding the bag of sugar-free gummies, she immediately accuses me of trying to “poison the kids.” At the time, I was still oblivious; yet now I see she how right she was. She more or less occupied the bathroom at that point.

Long story short, I had to run the birthday party at this point, since my mother refused to come out of the bathroom. Seeing the other reviews here, you probably know exactly what is going on in there, but we didn’t. In between activities and pictures and games we all went to the table to snack on the Haribo devil bears. Everything was great, my sister was having the time of her life and the snack turned out to be very popular, every kid having a fair share of the 5 lb bag.

Towards the middle of the day, the bag was gone, leaving only substitute sugar in the bowl. I get a text from my mom: “Do not let anyone else eat that sugar free candy it is poisonous”, followed up with “I am back at home, dad came and got me. You will have to do the presents.”

Hm. Dad was at work, he must have swooped in so fast to pick her up I didn’t even see him; kind of like a S.W.A.T. team evacuation now that I think about it.

So, poisonous? EVERY KID, including me, ate them. Great. BUTT that’s not all, I look up to notice a queue forming at the four stall restrooms, quickly growing. My own stomach going ARRGGHHHNNGG was all the extra evidence I needed. We needed to do something, and quick. Unfortunately, we were, as aforementioned, in a park, with four total stalls. I watched to my horror as nearly every kid was now lined up at the bathrooms. My pores started to sweat feverishly, my heart was beating at odd rhythms, and I felt like I was burning up. So much for presents.

I began to make my way down to the children, hobbling as I went so as to not cause any unfortunate accidents. That’s when the smell hit. Such a smell, I have never before witnessed, seemed to be oozing out from under the bathroom doors. The brave kids in front had a stoic face of inevitability, as I’m sure they realized they would soon have to go in there themselves. It was as still as an execution, even the birds stopped their mad chirping to observe the kids leading double file into the place of doom. (I later learned that the birds simply died from the fumes, which is why they were silent)

Every couple of seconds, we witnessed the sounds of horror from the stalls, shrieks, moans, and unspeakable noises came through those doors. It was like hell itself chose to show itself to our birthday party.

---------------------Two weeks later--------------------------

It is now August, and I am genuinely surprised to be alive. From what they tell me, a couple kids are still in critical condition, but they will make it. What happened is kind of a blur, I vaguely remember getting in the stall… See I don’t want to talk about it, the experience scarred me for life. But I did feel it was my duty to warn all other humans attempting to buy this product.

If you’re dumb like me though, you’re going to be in a rush and not have time for reviews on simple candy. (I mean how can you get candy wrong) But for the 1 in 100 chance you do read this, I want to save you the skin grafts and colon cleanses we all went through.
11 comment| 70 people found this helpful. Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse
on November 24, 2017
I'm having back surgery and will be put on constipating pain medications. These little gummi bears contain almost enough artificial sweetener to counteract the effects of the pain medications. They taste wonderful and if eaten by the handful will lessen my dependence on laxative pills.
0Comment|Was this review helpful to you?YesNoReport abuse