The Candy Box
Her chubby hands resembled bulging, overstuffed pillows. Like piled puffs of cumulus clouds, they floated happily over the candy-box, and, with the tips of her dimpled index fingers, she lightly fondled the chocolate flesh of the confections where they lay nestled side-by-side in their brown, crinkled cups.
Using just enough force to cave in their surfaces, she pressed them--testing them--feeling for her favorites: the ones with the hard, caramel core; the ones she always ate first. Most often she could spot the caramels simply by looking at them, since they were usually rectangular or square. But she knew from long experience that shapes varied from brand -to-brand, and were therefore sometimes deceiving; and rather than subjecting the savor of her favorite flavor to an abrupt change with a foreign bon-bon----though they too were delicious--she preferred to reduce the odds of inconsistency with this more tactile method of experimentation. Experience also taught her that a happy side-effect to her trial and error was that no one else wanted the "test models", which lay slightly crushed and oozing unappetizingly next to their intact neighbors in the candy box--which, of course, meant more for her.
Using just enough force to cave in their surfaces, she pressed them--testing them--feeling for her favorites: the ones with the hard, caramel core; the ones she always ate first. Most often she could spot the caramels simply by looking at them, since they were usually rectangular or square. But she knew from long experience that shapes varied from brand -to-brand, and were therefore sometimes deceiving; and rather than subjecting the savor of her favorite flavor to an abrupt change with a foreign bon-bon----though they too were delicious--she preferred to reduce the odds of inconsistency with this more tactile method of experimentation. Experience also taught her that a happy side-effect to her trial and error was that no one else wanted the "test models", which lay slightly crushed and oozing unappetizingly next to their intact neighbors in the candy box--which, of course, meant more for her.
A faint glimmer of concern began to register through her somnolent veil of pleasure as she realized that previous scavengers might have already robbed her of the remaining, coveted caramels. Like a frustrated, inept typist she jabbed faster at the chocolates with her two pointed fingers, and with slightly more force.
"Oh Pweeze!" she whimpered. "Pweeeeeze let there be one more caw-a-mel!" And her lips pouted, as her fingers kept poking erroneously: orange creme, coconut, cherry nougat, double fudge, creme-de-menthe.
But at last she found one more--the last chocolate covered caramel-and as she picked it up her mouth opened eagerly with a wet, expectant smack. She pressed the caramel to her lolling tongue, letting go as it stuck, and drew it in like a gaping toad in slow motion. She smiled, as if she were hiding a dirty secret that only she knew--a secret that was at once shameful and amusing.
The viscous cream of melting caramel and chocolate gradually filled her mouth, coating her taste buds completely. She momentarily resisted the temptation to swallow. Instead, she slowly circled her tongue through the thick syrup and around the bon-bon, and stared listlessly into space, savoring the inexpressible pleasure of her candy induced lethargy.
'Mmmmmm,' she thought dreamily. This morning, all the world seems perfect.' She sighed gently. 'The day can be so very nice.....so very, very nice and .......Plump!' Her creativity pleased her. "Yes!" she whispered in revelation. "That's what it is.......Plump!"
She sat back and smiled languidly--a contented smile--and puffed the word lazily through her lips, permitting the slow consonants to push them where they pleased. She inhaled deeply, and let the word come and play with her lips once more as she again sighed a lazy, full, satisfied sigh, and her smiling, distant gaze, and her heavy eyelids seemed to express the word lustily.
And don't forget my brother Karl:
Double Dare
(Poem Draft)
Gobble Gobble, Goober guy!
There's no reaching for the sky.
Guess what dipshit, booger kid,
There never even was a Pie!
Only Goobers blow their heads off
Only Booger boys do that!
Only lazy, little little brats
Make their spoiled brains go splat!
Such a Hog!
What a Glom!
A Ten Guage, wide choke
Blastey Pair!
"Hey! No Fair! I'm telling Mom!
She said we should share.
He's got TWO barrels in his mouth.
That's unfair! A Double Dare!
Gobble Gobble, Goober guy!
There's no reaching for the sky.
Guess what dipshit, booger kid,
There never even was a Pie!
You're a snob!.
Get a Job!
If you can't find one.
You're a slob!
What? too good to scrub a pot?
Give up your wishes, start washing dishes?
Look at you, you drunken sot!
Go swim with the fishes!
Can't scrape up money for more beer?
A big shot lawyer can't be broke.
A big shot lawyer can't be broke.
Shit! you're poor, and quite a boor.
Why don't you just crawl off and croak?
Gobble Gobble, Goober guy!
There's no reaching for the sky.
Guess what dipshit, booger kid,
There never even was a Pie!
Nice Warm Cookies Mommy Bakes.
Well....Three cheers to you with Candy!
You're spanking spoiled.
Spanking Spoiled!
You Yankee Doodle Dandy!
Bashful, Bashful,
Angry!
Sad.
You'll be Sorry you've been Bad!
You're spanking spoiled.
Spanking Spoiled!
You Yankee Doodle Dandy!
Bashful, Bashful,
Angry!
Sad.
You'll be Sorry you've been Bad!
Gobble Gobble, Goober guy!
There's no reaching for the sky.
Guess what dipshit, booger kid,
There never even was a Pie!
TO BE CONTINUED
And then he is visited by someone from his childhood--a Clown he saw at a small local circus once that scared him terribly.
Anyway, while the ex-law student is living home in his parents basement, and every time he is drunk, he receives a visit from the "old friend" the clown, who proceeds to taunt and tease him. And it all rhymes and is wierd.
This clown can somehow read the guys mind and mentions suicide, and all of the guys insecurities, etc. And he just won't go away. It's the last thing the guy needs of course, but there the clown is anyway.And he's not leaving, ever, because student loans don't leave.
I'm not sure of the name of the clown. I thought of Punchinello, but after reading up a little on Punchinello, the character doesn't quite fit. So I don't know.Something legal sounding maybe, like Mr. Holmes the Clown, or something catchy and Latin?
Or Shilly the clown? Nah.
