Sugarlips Candy Company.

Remember Chupa Chups, Mamba Chews, Mary Janes and Curly Wurlies? How about that mouthful of 1950s nuclear bombs?

It was exactly what you’d expect from an “Atomic Fire Ball.” Also known as “The Jawbreaker.”

Your saliva would attack the top layer. Then came searing pain as you melted layer after layer, gratefully falling off to a benign sweetness. If it had any flavor, you couldn’t tell. Your mouth was nuked for at least a half hour.

I always chased it with a Canada Mint, a cooling tablet of wintergreen that settled the stomach just enough to make room for — yikes — another Atomic Fire Ball.

So went our childhood. We merrily sucked, chewed and decayed our way through enough penny candy to keep our dads permanently paying off dental bills. Dads did the same thing when they were kids, so they understood.

Temptation was everywhere. This was the 1950s, when corner stores had yet to be eclipsed by the supers. Every market, drugstore, five and dime, newsstand and gas station had a candy counter. We were enticed to take our change in sweets instead of coin.

For me, that was easy. I had my mom convinced that milk and bread cost about 10 percent more than they really did. That was my candy money. If she suspected, she never said. Maybe she figured it was my delivery charge.

We’d stop at Clarendon Market after Boy Scouts. They had a three-tier, 10-foot shelf of big glass jars filled with Bit-O-Honeys, Wax Lips, Banana Splits, Conversation Hearts and on and on.

I don’t remember buying any candy bars. They were expensive (15 cents). For the price of chocolate, you could get 15 Flying Saucers.

After a day of school, we needed something strong. Maybe it’s my imagination, but candy back then seemed more, I don’t know, “atomic.”

Take Dots. They would yank the fillings right out of your teeth. They tasted like wax, then lemon and orange and cherry, as pure as artificial flavorings allow.

Man, if you ever needed a Haribo Licorice Pipe, it was in school. Teachers were trained to watch our lips. If they quivered from a sucking motion, we were busted.

Candy was our official currency. At recess, we bartered. I’ll give you five Cherry Heads for six Gobstoppers and a Runt. Deal.

Old age causes the flavor decline. We shed taste buds over the years. Sen Sen would send tears to my cheeks. Now, it’s like waiting for a bus that never comes.

I did have a Fire Ball on Thursday — I am still recovering. Torture is as sweet as yesterday.咩