In my face right now:
They would be better without the hint of licorice. Much better. Not a fan of licorice.
I do love gravy, though.
Stan and David rested for a few minutes, recovering from their close call with the janitor and finishing their suckers together in silence. David was the first to crunch the last bit of candy from his stick and stand up, brushing the dust from his school uniform.
“Is it time yet? Mr Mills is gone home for sure by now,” he said, hopefully.
Stan nodded and chewed up the last of his own cherry-red lollipop. “Don’t forget your backpack,” he reminded his friend.
David scooped up his bag as they headed for the classroom door. The soft snick of the lock disengaging was the only sound to be heard aside from their rapid breathing. Their excitement was a nearly palpable presence in the air.
“C’mon, David, it’s this way,” Stan beckoned him to the right, down the hallway away from the front doors of the school.
David stayed close behind, not wanting to take the slightest chance of missing out on any part of the adventure they had planned. Stan stopped abruptly in front of an unlabeled door, and David nearly ran him over in his haste.
“I thought this was a broom closet or something,” David remarked.
“Nope. Check it out.” Stan wiggled the doorknob at just the right angle, and it unlatched, allowing the door to swing wide, revealing a stainless steel ladder bolted to the wall.
David goggled at the sight. “Holy cow!”
“I told you it was awesome.’ Stan smirked to himself before stepping into the closet of a room and starting up the ladder, David on his heels.
It felt like they climbed for hours, but about only minutes later, Stan pushed open the heavy door above them, and he nearly fell off the ladder, taking David with him, when it slammed open onto the roof, letting the sunlight stream in.
The two boys scrambled out of the hole in the ceiling and stood up to look around.
“I can see the whole town from up here!” David exclaimed.
“Look over there!” Stan pointed. “It’s your house.”
They spent at least half an hour seeking out sights to show each other, buildings and landmarks that they’d known since birth, but only from ground level. Everything looked so different from the grand height of three whole stories.
Finally tiring of that game, the boys took off their backpacks and used them as pillows to lie on their backs and find pictures in the cloudscapes above.
Which is where they fell sound asleep, and where the police found them, hours later.
Begun with TBP OLWG #34
We’ve got a new candy store right around the corner.
And Ian was excused from jury duty without even being interviewed, so I don’t have to bring Abby on my paper route tomorrow!
Check out other PAIL bloggers’ snapshots here!
Throughout October, and indeed, most of September, I was super excited about Halloween. What with it being a Monday and all, we didn’t have to worry about not being able to take our daughter trick-or-treating. Free candy!
We’d tossed around costume ideas, zombie, cat (meow being one of her first words), even me as Rainbow Brite and her as a sprite. We settled on zombie baby, as that would be fun for the whole family!
Then, suddenly, it was Halloween. And I was not so excited anymore. As the afternoon wore on, I got more and more upset. I was in the middle of a four-day headache, so that wasn’t helping too much either.
When my husband asked what was wrong, when I was crying on the couch in the middle of too-short second naptime, I was too chicken to say what I felt. I didn’t say ‘you take her and go trick-or-treating, since you have a kid to do that with. I’ll stay home and feel sorry for myself.’
And right at that minute, there was a not-so-small part of me that wanted exactly that. That wanted to stay home alone and pity party til the cows came home. That wanted to say this horrible mean thing and hurt him because I was hurting so much. That wanted to be left behind while fun was had elsewhere because that’s all I deserve.
I didn’t say any of that. I copped out with ‘I’m just upset.’ A crappy answer to any question, ever. So I hated myself for saying it. And he told me we weren’t going, because my head hurt and I was upset, which of course made me feel even worse.
Our little zombie decided it was time to get up, and my husband told me to stop crying, pull up my big girl panties, and do some damn makeup. Okay, he didn’t use thoseexact words, but the meaning was clear.
I am so grateful that sometimes it works out that someone is there to tell me exactly what I need to hear, exactly when I need to hear it.
So I makeupped my little heart out.
And we hit up the mall. We hadn’t gotten ‘trick or treat’ down at all, but at least she’s got a pretty strong ‘thank you.’ And a pretty quick hand to reach into your candy bowl when you dared to only shell out five pieces.
It went pretty well. She had a ‘hi!’ for all the little vampires and fairies and ladybugs. We almost made a full circuit before crankiness got the best of her, so I started candy bribes to get us back to the car with our hearing intact. Don’t judge me! She is piercing.
We stopped and picked up a pizza on the way home. Bye-bye, candy, and pizza all in one day? It doesn’t get any better.
And by nine o’clock my husband was the only one awake, in spite of the sugar highs.
So yes, I will be the first one to admit that sometimes I really do just need someone to slap me in the face and scream ‘snap out of it!’ Because I can’t do it myself; I’ll always choose the pity party.