Rated: E · Non-fiction · Comedy · #1576544
A short story involving me, some candy, and a surly shopkeeper.
|You never take the green ones. The green ones are stale and dry. They’ve been passed over too many times. You can taste the oily, dirty hands of children who have picked them up and then put them back. That’s why you always have to stick with the red ones. They go quick, so they are always fresh. This is one of the first things I learned in life: The green thumbs are always stale. The red lips and the red licorice are always fresh. Of course, there were always other options. The chocolate bars, the chips, the slushies. But it always felt like the red lips, the blue whales, the gummy bottles of coke were the best treats to choose. All you needed was a couple of dollars and you were guaranteed to be walking home with a brown paper bag full of waxy, sometimes tasteless corn-syrup solidified treats. My parents had already taught me the importance of quantity over quality. My cheapness began to fester at an abnormally young age. The force was strong in me from the outset. |
As I stood in front of the five cent candies, the lady at the counter is eying me. She thinks I am getting ready to pull off a heist and steal some of her precious blue whales. I’m not. I’m just thinking of what I feel like getting today, "Hm, Fuzzy Peaches or Cherry Blasters?” (I don't think there is a right answer to this question and it still tortures me until this day).
Mulling over my decision the owner yells, “Hey! I’m watching you!” Not knowing how to respond, I do the only thing my tiny brain can process as a correct reaction, I smile back. “Wipe that stupid smirk off your face!” she shrieks. Stupid smirk? I was just trying to smile. So I buy my candy and get out.
I walk home and an intense feeling of guilt comes over me. I don't know why. I didn’t do anything wrong...I didn't do anything wrong and yet every time I look inside the paper bag it feels as if I just held-up the place. I have to double check that there is in fact actual candy in the bag and not a carton of cigarettes and handful of lotto tickets. But to my surprise there is in fact only candy. I reach in and pull out a piece of red licorice. It's fresh. It's good. Instantly all my worries disappear and my mind becomes clear. I am in a state of nirvana and this is my mantra:
Oh, well. At least I got my candy.