Tagged: candy

Only A Few People

  • by KentThey are afraid of me.
  • unusual, suggestive colors
  • baby, I’m your man
  • conceived by the devil himself
  • wearing a pair of “shoes” so befuddling

Tune in next time part 826      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Only a few people have ever tried to get between me and a candy bar, and none of them will make that mistake again. They are afraid of me. They should be.

Inside the first wrapper was a slab of chocolate that swirled with unusual, suggestive colors and released unusual, suggestive aromas. It was a candy bar that said, “hey hey baby, I’m your man.” I wrapped it back up and ate the other, boring ones instead. This was a candy bar to hold onto until I could take my time with it.

The naptime intermission came to a close as one of the mommies strode out to introduce the next act. “All you need to know about this contestant is that she was conceived by the devil himself.” That stung a little.

While I was still trying to remember the woman’s name, the baby took the stage wearing a pair of “shoes” so befuddling that I wondered if they might be her whole act.

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The Infants Tired Themselves Out Laughing

  • by jenthoughtfully curated selection
  • attempting to reenter the United States
  • celebrities promoting the toad medicine
  • referred to it as “defensive cooking”
  • provides the optimal angle for all kinds of

Tune in next time part 825      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The infants tired themselves out laughing, so Talent Show Part 2 had a lengthy intermission for nap time. I perused the thoughtfully curated selection of international candy bars at the refreshment stand, some of which I hadn’t tasted since my chocolate smuggling friend got picked up attempting to reenter the United States after being deported. It wasn’t even his blackmarket sweets that got him in trouble, but rather a snake oil scheme he’d promoted years earlier. Instead of snakes he got his juice from toads, and he even had celebrities promoting the toad medicine, which is what drew all the attention. The health department raided the lab where he did what they referred to as “mad science,” while he referred to it as “defensive cooking” because he was often high on his own supply. His slogan was “Toad Butter provides the optimal angle for all kinds of fun!”, which was a terrible slogan, in my opinion.

I excitedly chose a half-dozen candy bars from countries I’d never even heard of and unwrapped the first one with a smile on my face.

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My Worst Fear

  • by Kentconfined space like a bathtub
  • I could become a baker. I could become immortal
  • wink like your life depends on it
  • He said that was normal
  • unhealthy love for gummy candy

Tune in next time part 816      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My worst fear was that this door would lead us into an even more confined space like a bathtub (although I was well aware that my recent bathing escapade, however thorough, had long worn off). It was in fact quite spacious, but oppressed by statuary.

A sculpture garden is not standard on all Contrarian airships, but of course this vessel had all the upgrades. When a Contrarian airship does have a sculpture garden, it’s mandatory for there to be a theme. This one must have been selected by Fleur personally. It gave me the creeps, and the heebie-jeebies. It made me question my life choices. It made me reflect that I could become a baker. I could become immortal through the medium of yeast and frosting. And then I wouldn’t be surrounded by my worst nightmares.

Literally. Fleur had obtained one of my old dream journals and commissioned the whole thing in bronze. That was the theme.

I hadn’t realized that I was frozen in place, until Tessa gave me a shove. She said into my ear, “Run like the devil is chasing you, and wink like your life depends on it.” Jim was already halfway down the first concourse. Petit Julien would be on our heels any second. I ran.

All around me, the metal monstrosities seemed to reach out, seemed to actually be moving. I involuntarily wrapped up my head with my arms.

“No, they aren’t really moving,” Tessa grunted, shoving me again. “I asked Jim about the illusion while you were gawping. He said that was normally only noticeable by the one whose psychic trauma was depicted by the works, so I must be pretty well attuned to you. Now, wink dammit!”

I was too terrified to argue, and as soon as I started the process of repeatedly shutting only one eye I understood why she was ordering me to do that. It created a sort of lopsided stroboscopic effect that counteracted the menacing sense of motion, blunting the terror even of the statue that showed my unhealthy love for gummy candy.

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By the Time Isaac was Done with Me

  • by jenwonder if you even miss me
  • people thought they had a far more sinister meaning
  • dressed in a Hazmat suit
  • mixture of ferocity and jocularity
  • nonetheless churning with anxiety

Tune in next time part 223                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

By the time Isaac was done with me I had learned that her real name was Cleopatra, and I was exhausted from my efforts both conversational and carnal. My mind was nonetheless churning with anxiety over the sinister Tibetan chocolate bar, which manifested in my actions as an odd mixture of ferocity and jocularity. The last time I felt that way I dressed in a Hazmat suit and went to the White House to talk things out with Thor. The thing about Hazmat suits is that most people thought they had a far more sinister meaning than I intended. I was just trying to be funny, but you try telling that to the Secret Service.

I digress.

There were no Hazmat suits in Cleopatra’s apartment so it was easy enough to avoid that misstep this time, despite my compromised mental state. As I was getting dressed in the clothes I’d gotten from Jim’s closet what felt like ages ago, Cleopatra turned on the TV.

“We need to make sure your father’s return hasn’t hit the news yet,” she said, flipping through the channels until she landed on the Contrarian News Network showing footage of my heavily pregnant wife Fleur and her retinue, all laughing at the antics of a troop of mimes.

I wonder if you even miss me, I thought, as she threw her arms around the neck of Viscount Arlo of Svenborgia. The damn Svenborgians were all over this mess.

“That Arlo guy is such a dick,” Cleopatra said.

How did she even know who he was?

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I Have Always Been a Man

  • by jenmistrusted his own senses more
  • What kind of candy was it?
  • I hope they jammed their fingers into him
  • “The Devil’s at the bottom of it, I’m sure.”
  • My arse is killing me.

Tune in next time part 221                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I have always been a man who mistrusted his own senses more than most people do, largely due to all the mind games and psychedelics my parents employed in my upbringing, but I was sure that there was a candy bar strapped to the leg of Gordon the goose. What kind of candy was it? It was vitally important that I find out. It was likely the key to everything. If Esmerelda had resorted to something as dusty and disused as the washerwoman’s code, it only made sense that the confectioner’s code was also in play.

As the gander continued to rub against Isaac’s pants, I crouched and deftly unstrapped the candy bar from his scaly leg. The wrapper was unfamiliar, but the lettering looked Tibetan. Whoever sent this message, I hope they jammed their fingers into Himalayan mittens before frostbite set in.

Isaac peered at the exotic candy in my hand, her eyes wide. “The Devil’s at the bottom of it, I’m sure.”

“The Devil” is what a lot of people called my father.

Gordon didn’t like being ignored. With a loud honk he nipped Isaac. She yelped and scolded the bird, then stood rubbing her rump. “We need to get out of here, find a place to stow Gordon. My arse is killing me. You’ll need to check it for me to make sure he didn’t break the skin.”

While the thought of examining Isaac’s arse would normally have been quite intriguing, I was currently much more concerned about the chocolate bar in my hand. I remembered John’s childhood spent in the Tibetan monastery. If the message really had been sent by my father, things were very dire indeed.

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As I Meandered

  • by Kentthat’s my butt
  • he was ready to try again
  • unnaturally taxing their bodily energies
  • to create a delicious new flavor
  • depositing his hat on the floor

Tune in next time part 154                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

As I meandered through the tacky, sappy, garish, and depressing realm of Valentine Village, I kept my eyes peeled for Tessa. Would it really be her? Or a robotic simulacrum? Or Tallulah?

“Hey, where’s your tray?” The nasal voice behind me was as grating and sour as my surroundings were pillowy and sweet. I turned to find a scrawny man in an argyle vest and a green visor, consulting the clipboard in his hand. He shook his head and then looked at me. “Wait here.”

My new supervisor stepped into a small shed and popped right back out with a silver platter covered with pastel hearts. “Get moving, a bus just pulled in.” I took the tray.

As soon as he turned away, I started examining the words on the tiny candies. I quickly determined that this was not the message I was looking for. They said things like, “that’s my butt,” and “now you wear the collar.”

I quickly discovered that carrying this platter attracted the park’s guests to me. An elderly couple stepped up, the man reaching for the treats I carried. He picked one up and squinted at it, leaving his wife bewildered when he didn’t give the candy to her. After pocketing the first one, he was ready to try again. And again. On the seventh try he decided the inscription was appropriate, which judging by his wife’s reaction it truly was. They scampered away, no doubt toward pursuits unnaturally taxing their bodily energies. Well, his pocketful of sugar would revive them.

To avoid being confronted by more customers, I entered the small building behind one of the numerous stands selling obscene balloon animals. Once inside, I glanced at another heart, which said, “eat me.” “Call me Alice,” I muttered and popped the candy heart into my mouth. It tasted like lime, not at all what I’d been expecting. Finding another one with the same words, I ate it too, finding it was an unidentifiable blend of spices. The two candies’ essences mixed to create a delicious new flavor. I hunted through the rest of my inventory, but there were no more that said “eat me.”

I hadn’t meant to remain in one spot for so long. Looking around, I expected Tessa to be right behind me, smirking at my shorty toga. But the person standing there wasn’t Tessa, it was a man with a Tyrolean hat and a thick mustache waxed into large, looping curls. He bowed like a horse, with one leg kept stiff in front of himself, a single sharp nod depositing his hat on the floor.

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We Only Made It a Few Hundred Yards Down the Boardwalk

  • by jenwidely presumed to be sexting constantly
  • “See ya later.”
  • like a tantalizing love machine
  • it helps to have a mirror in the room
  • a “mechanical control abnormality”

Tune in next time part 80                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

We only made it a few hundred yards down the boardwalk before a light on the dashboard started blinking, signaling a “mechanical control abnormality” and smoke poured out of both the engine compartment and the taffy bin.

“Scheiße!” cried Ulrike, frantically squeezing the brake lever.

But we did not slow. Our rocket sled hurtled out of control, klaxons blaring, like some post-apocalyptic ice cream truck. I reached around Ulrike’s unrestrained bosom and hit the button for the ejector seat. We shot upward, clinging to each other and dangling from our single parachute. Below us our taffy sled rocketed through the railing at the end of the pier and hurtled into the sea.

The massive cloud of steam generated by jet engine meeting salt water hid us from view as we made a clumsy landing on the beach. Ulrike grabbed my wrist again and dragged me into the nearby funhouse before the fog cleared.

“When hiding from one’s enemy it helps to have a mirror in the room,” she said, and shoved me into the hall of mirrors. We were suddenly surrounded by dozens of versions of ourselves, some perfect copies, others stretched and warped in hideous ways.

Ulrike gazed around at all the mirrors and breathed hotly in my ear. “I had forgotten how much like a tantalizing love machine you are.” Or at least she tried to. She actually breathed in the ear of one of my reflections, fogging up the glass.

I laughed and said, “See ya later.”

Luckily I had this particular labyrinth memorized. I closed my eyes and ran through, leaving Ulrike cursing and stumbling behind me.

Upon exiting I pushed my way through a group of teenagers. All teens are widely presumed to be sexting constantly, and these did nothing to dispel that stereotype. With any luck their overabundance of hormones would confuse Ulrike’s sensitive nose when she finally blundered through the maze, and allow me to make good my escape.

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Jorgensen Threw A Net Over Me

  • k-avataruses it for a cellphone ad
  • this is not about my ambition
  • it’s a whole lotta whole lot
  • fell into the cotton candy pit
  • company they helped politically

Tune In Next Time Part 29                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Jorgensen threw a net over me and ordered his crew to drag me below and throw me in the brig. Sliding over the planks on my back, I had to wonder if the alliance was in financial trouble. What other explanation for a buccaneer who takes the skull and bones off his mainsail and instead uses it for a cellphone ad?

Another hint of monetary woes was the crewmen themselves. Their soundless approach was no surprise, but the white face paint was. Ninjas and pirates had powerful unions, but mimes would scab for practically nothing, and, obviously, you never hear them complain about their work conditions. I thought I saw an angle that might lead to my escape.

But the next moment I was flung down an open hatch into the hold. My startled scream turned to a puzzled grunt as I fell into the cotton candy pit. Ever wondered how much cotton candy a frigate can carry? Well, it’s a lot. In fact it’s a whole lotta whole lot. The salt water saturating my clothes and hair dissolved the fuzzy cargo like acid, and I sank through a shaft shaped like a cutout of a man who should have cut his losses long ago.

Aphrodite Hunter peered down on me with her one good eye and the remarkably lifelike glass one. She cackled, then said, “You won’t starve, but your dentist might have some stern words for you at your next checkup! Just wanted you to know, this is not about my ambition to rule the pirate ninja alliance. Your friend John is up to something with Heinrich, something shady with a company they helped politically, which makes you my insurance policy.”

I wanted to tell her she had it all wrong, that holding me wouldn’t give her any leverage over John. But the lid slammed down over the hatch and I was left in sticky darkness.

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