Snickers

I thought I'd try and doing something a little less seroius this week....here's a story about trick-or-treating in a small town. This was one pretty fun because I lived in a small town for six years. If anyone's interested, I've never actually gone trick-or-treating. It runs about 1700 words.

Snickers

“Carl! Get down here!”

The ceiling over Mrs. Dibber’s creaked and drywall sprinkled her grey head. She sat facing the stairs with her wrinkled hands clasped on her tabletop. The groaning steps announced Carl’s descent.

Carl bounded into the room holding a pair of enormous shoes by their heels as Mrs. Dibber’s brushed her tablecloth.

“You called?” Carl scratched under his wig.

Mrs. Dibber rose, arranged a waxed fruit in her table-decorations, and leaned on a bookshelf as she approached her grandson.

“Come back tonight, will you?” she coughed and brushed at the paint on his cheeks absentmindedly, “don’t do anything stupid, and you’re raking the leaves tomorrow, understand?”

Carl nodded and tried not turning away. The paint on his face cracked with a smile, “It’s not like there’s much of anywhere to go in Bell….they planted the football field before building city hall!”

“Oh hush!” Grandma whistled between her teeth, “this town is huge compared to when your great-grandfather first came….don’t get hurt, don’t be the first to bite into a caramel apple, but let someone else check for razor blades…”

Mrs. Dibber’s hobbled to her table and Carl helped her sit. She stared through the dining room’s large window into the night, admonishing Carl five minutes about Halloween’s dangers.

Carl slipped his shoes on and played with his overalls as his grandma talked. Those waxed fruits were beautiful! He thought as he stared into the oil lamp on the table, then again, how many hours did grandma spend in this room? It made sense she’d do something.

Retired farmers are seldom rich enough to travel. Her waxed fruit littered the house, with the only real food being a bread loaf, milk, and seven eggs. Carl fooled himself into thinking they were camping, especially when the only source of light came from oil lamps.

Carl removed his rainbow-colored wig and scratched. Dandruff fell onto the tablecloth without him noticing, and he sat up as Grandma stopped talking. He stared transfixed as she turned and leaned forward. She glanced from side to side and tried lowering her voice; it came out raspy instead of quiet.

“Bring me a snickers if Mr. Murphy hands them out.”

Carl nodded, slapped on his wig, and stood. Floorboards creaked under his monolith shoes as he made for the front door. He passed through the kitchen and opened the door. “I’ll do that, Grandma….thanks for letting me go.”

Mrs. Dibber tried standing, but just waved and muttered, “I want that lawn raked tomorrow. Will isn’t around anymore. Understand?”

Carl nodded and adjusted to the cold before stepping into the dark. “I’ll do that; see you in the morning!”

He shut the door gently and crunched leaves in the lawn to join his friends on the sidewalk. An orc mumbled beneath a mask and Caesar shivered beneath a toga.

“Can’t hear ya’.” Carl chuckled as he followed his friends down the sidewalk.

The orc lifted his grimacing face and gasped, “You’re late.”

“You know Grandma,” Carl grinned as he walked faster to escape his house’s large window, “had to talk about the dangers of Halloween and probably mentioned Will.”

“OK,” Caesar chattered, “who’s Will? I hear about him every time I see your grand…gran…grandma.”

Carl avoided one of many large roots that’d broken up the sidewalk; it wasn’t easy in shoes twice his size. “That was her first boyfriend from 1930. Doesn’t really remember grandpa anymore.”

“That’s messed UP!” Caesar blew his big nose.

“Well, she IS 93 this year….I wonder what you’ll be like in 80 years.”

The orc smiled and slapped on his mask. The trio neared a house with pumpkins in the front and the porch light on.

The inhabitants dropped morsels in the boy’s sacks. They suspected the owner gave 5 year-old candy.


Mrs. Dibbers watched as Carl and his friends disappeared into the night. She scrutinized the large clock over the window tick slowly; 10:02….10:02 and five ticks…

How long ago had her father made that? It seemed she watched it just as long waiting for Carl to come home everyday. She sighed, blew out the lamp on the table, and struggled to her room with the moon guiding her.


“Well, that’s the first block,” Caesar muttered as he shook his bag’s contents, “not much to show for…and we only have three more blocks!”

“Look at the bright side,” Carl chuckled, tripped on his shoes, and caught someone’s wooden fence, “we’re the only ones trick-or-treating! Two more years, and we’ll be able to drive to the big cities. I heard a Burger King is coming to town.”

“No foolin’!” the orc nearly dropped his bag, “We’re going to have a real Burger King?”
Carl stopped at the second block’s end and glanced over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Caesar and the orc mumbled through blue lips.

“We’ve only got a few more blocks and they’re not going to have a lot of stuff…you guys wanta’ surprise my grandma? She’s wanted the lawn raked for a while, but I’ve been too busy with school and working on Mr. Jeffrey’s farm.”

Orc refused, and even Caesar proved immovable.

“Well,” Carl sighed and slung his bag over his shoulder, “I’ll see you guys at school.”
Carl turned and walked home, rubbing at the face paint. He avoided he sidewalk and used the road instead; less broken.


“Bob?” Mrs. Dibber’s whispered into the phone at her bedside, “There’s someone out in my lawn! Listen.” She held the receiver shakily to her window that looked on the front yard and hoped the Sheriff heard the scraping.

“I’ll send someone over, Mrs. Dibbers.” A voice sighed on the other end.

Mrs. Dibber’s set the phone on her bed stand, and pulled her quilt to her chin. She studied the barren room. The wooden floor, the small shelf with pictures, her dresser with owls made of differing materials and sizes…it all needed dusted.

The bed creaked as she sank further beneath the covers. She seized the phone and trembled, “The sounds getting louder, Bob!”


Carl puffed, picked at a splinter in his hand, and removed dry grass and leafs from his rake. He glanced at the moon; kids would be going home and pranksters would be coming out soon.

Absently he polished a huge button. He glanced up as a car screeched around the corner and sped down the block. Carl made out the lights on top and a sheriff badge on the side as it neared.

The car roared off the street, tearing dry grass and scattering leaves.

“Hey!” Carl leapt aside as the vehicle roared by, and gagged from car fumes as a figure rolled from the cab.

“Bill!” Carl shouted as he approached the figure on the ground, “What are you doing?!”

The moon reflected a barrel and something clicked.

“Put your hands behind your head!” the figure shouted as he leapt to his feet.

“That you Tom?…”

The barrel aimed upward and lit the night. Carl covered his head, slipped on leaves, jumped to his feet and dashed behind a tree before the deputy could reload.

“You’ve forgotten your meds again!” Carl shouted as he pinned against the tree.

A walky-talky crackled from the police cab, “Red alert! Red alert!” a voice squeaked, “Burglar has studied the law enforcements and even knows our names….will resolve situation as quickly as possible.”

“Tom! Don’t do anything drastic! Tom, what do you mean by ‘resolve’?” a voice demanded over the radio.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Carl waved his hands and stepped out from behind cover, “Can’t you see it’s Carl?”

The deputy wiped his face with a scarlet bandana and cocked the gun.

“I am sooo telling Doc….”

The branches over Carl exploded. Twigs fell on him as he pinned himself on the ground with hands covering his head.

He glanced up; the deputy wasn’t there.

“Tom?”

A hand wrenched him from the earth and dragged him over to the police cab by his overalls.

Caesar and the orc walked by just then, glanced over, and kept walking. “Wow….” Caesar muttered a few houses down, “Carl’s face is going to be in that cab’s exterior for a while.”
“That was Carl?” the orc asked after lifting his mask, “Tom threw that coat over his head too fast for me to see.”


An exhausted clown knocked on Mrs. Dibber’s door the next morning with Sheriff Bill. Carl rubbed his wrists and wiped his black thumb on his overalls as they waited.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Bill looked down and his square features were genuine, “You know how Tom is on Halloween, and especially when Doc forgets to remind him about his pills.”

He wiped his large nose and shifted in his boots. He rubbed the side of his tanned uniform and a bovine smile sunk into his face dotted with pockets from zits.

“That WAS pretty funny though! Did anyone get pictures?”

“If I wasn’t so tired,” Carl glowered, “I’d sew the police department, all two of you.”

The door cracked and half of Mrs. Dibber’s glare was revealed. “Where’ve you been all night?” she demanded before Carl bustled in, “I’ll bet you were doing something stupid while a shootout happened in my yard.”

“Grandma, I did something stupid, but I did go tricker-treating…”

A hand extended through the crack, “Snickers?”

Carl’s features dropped and he massaged his neck, “I didn’t get that far…I’ll buy some at the grocery store…”

The door slammed in his face. “Just as I thought! You take that boy and lock him up till I feel like getting him!”

Bill’s jaw dropped and well-concealed gum splattered on the sidewalk, “But….”

“That’s my last word!”

Bill shrugged and patted Carl’s shoulder, “Let’s get some doughnuts…a day out of the house and not working would do you good. Anywhere special you’d like to go?”

Carl flicked away his last blotch of face paint and smiled through a yawn. “Burger King?”


Mrs. Dibbers polished a waxed apple and nibbled at white bread. She gulped a glass of milk, retched, and glanced at the clock.

“Five! What happened to him last night? I think he said he’d be back...my brain aint what it used to be…”