Bedtime stories

A young boy could barely finish his applesauce. He half heartedly scooped it up with his spoon and raised it up toward his mouth. When he thought his father had turned away, the boy slowly rotated the rubbery black handle until the applesauce leapt onto the tray below with a splat. "All done," He said. "I am all done."

That boy's name was Charlie and he was about to depart his home dressed as a Hooded Capuchin monkey with a banana in his pocket. He made a discovery the day before that was to alter the course of his consciousness forever. For that was when he discovered Skittles. He was tentative at first observation of the candy coated rainbow of flavors. But there was a letter on each one of them. It was an "S". S is a good letter. Perhaps it is his favorite. S stands for snake and seahorse and Spokane and Silky and strange and of course splat. After he tasted the first one, he abandoned caution. He took another and another and another. He danced in a circle. His father and mother called him Circle Man. He felt as if his tiny feet could leave the floor, as if sugar was lighter than air. He wondered what the old ladies at the nursing home had given him. Why had they doted over him so? He spun around more. He tried to remember the hands of those old women. Thin, bony hands with brown and purple spots. His mother had told him to smile and say "Trick or treat" but all he could do was stare at their faces that looked wrinkled like the raisins he extracts and studies from his breakfast bowl of oatmeal. But the women smiled and they seemed happy mostly. And it didn't matter if they had purchased the Skittles or if the head warden had gone to the store herself and bought them and gave them to the women who then gave them to the children. It didn't even matter if they had teeth. For it wasn't tool long ago that he didn't have teeth.

He did try to fly, but he fell down. "What happened, Charlie?" He wondered out loud. "What happened?" The magic of the skittle was fading. The high was rapidly deteriorating. "Want more!" But the answer was no. At least, not until he finished his applesauce. But Charlie knew that all he really had to do was make it appear that he had finished his applesauce. For that reason, he took scoops, huge ones, from his bowl and began the great deception. The first scoop went on his bib. The next on the tray. And another. A small amount fell to the floor. The final bit of convincing came in the form of two large drips, one on each corner of his mouth. That is when he said "I am all done."

Charlie changed into his costume after dinner. Not long afterward, there came a knock at the door. It was a black and white dog and a fireman. But there was no emergency. Even so, he remembered 9-1-1 as the exact sequence of numbers to push on the phone in case a real emergency were to happen. The dog and fireman were carrying candy. Had they gone to the nursing home, he wondered.

That's when they left the house, he and his Dad. The sidewalks were cleared of snow, but they were wet. The monkey costume made his feet appear larger than they actually are. Big or little, man or monkey, feet love puddles. He splashed around in one until his father carried him half way to the door of an unfamiliar house. There they stopped. There they stood. "Go to the door and knock." His father said. "Say trick or treat and put your bag out."

And so that is what he did. He reached out, made a fist and gently rapped on the cold glass door with his knuckles. A stranger appeared behind the glass with a wicker basket. When the door creaked opened, Charlie retreated a few steps. He remained in lingo between his father who waited halfway up the walk and the stranger at the door. Two people approached up the walk, the brothers Ghengis and Shaka Kahn. Past Charlie they walked to the door. They said "trick or treat" and the man with the wicker basket put candy in their suitcases. That emboldened Charlie to do the same and to do it himself. He marched back up the walk, to the door, to the stranger, thrust out his bag and received his first candy handout. Oh the way it made him feel. He wanted to open it right on the spot and eat the candy on the porch. He wanted to feel weightless again and fly like the monkeys in the Wizard of Oz and share a smile with the women at the nursing home and listen to Willard Scott's voice. Those things made him happy. All at once he was happy and elevated. He made more stops like that during the night until he wore just wore out from doing it. His bag was full. "All done," he said, "I am all done."