Treats

April 20, 2012

I was over at Reese’s the other day picking up treats, man, cause I was fiendin’.

Now, it was Reese because my first man, my Cap’n, Cap’n Crunch, was outta town. Cap’n left his business to his cousin, who’s a goddamn Pop Tart. I don’t do business with him—made a point of that years ago. Reese—Reese’s like a Count Chocula, got the killer pad, got the treats, pretty regs, but good ya know? I was fiendin’, didn’t really need no real Rice Krispy shit, ya know what I’m sayin?

So I Fruit Roll Up over to Reese’s and I gets my treats. I’m in and out, he gives me a good price, I say what up to the Honey Bunches and my Oats and I’m out, slam Dunkaroo, I’ma hit it. I head back to the Bowl, I drive round the Box a few times and find my Kid’s Korner—know what I’m sayin? And I Cookie Crisp it up.

‘Cept. It didn’t feel right man. The feeling, you know it, right when the spoon hits and you lean back in your chair and you Chex out and you start seein’ Starbursts and all that—I didn’t feel it. I hit the back of my seat and just sat, just sat for like five minutes man, didn’t feel muffin. I’m so Pez’d man, I’m fiendin’ harder than ever and gettin’ nothing of it, and I just start thinkin’ bout killing this Nutter Butter.

But first I call up Cap’n Crunch and I give him the Fun Dip. He tells me to sit tight and stay Kool-Aid, and don’t do anything licorice. So I do, I indulge him, I sit tight. But sittin’ there I start thinkin and fiendin’, and I mean really thinkin yo—I’m seein’ Count Chocula, that goddamn Airhead, sittin’ up there in his castle all Chuckles and Snickers, thinkin’ he’s hot fudge. And then I see me comin’ up on him and gettin’ Nutrageous on his ass! I’m Snap, Crackle, and Poppin’ ‘im; I’m makin’ Mounds in his face; his teeth are fallin’ out like Tic Tacs! It looks so good, makin’ Reese’s Pieces, I’m thinkin’ I’m actually gonna Almond Joy it.

A Junior Mint’s gotta know that he can’t Trix a General Mills like me out his treats like that. They all gotta know.

So I Cheez Whiz back over to Reese’s. I sneak around back real Fruit by the Foot and I get into his living room. Place was a mess. Couple of the Honey Bunches were Chex’d out on the couch—they obviously were tastin’ on the real Treats. The table was littered with all of it—the dude had probably seven Teddy Grahams of Cookies & Cream, FL OZ’s of Coke, Cracker Jacks, Special K enough of it to send all Three Musketeers to the Milky Way and back. I Double Stuff Oreo’d my pockets with some of it—haha yessir! Gave my teeth a little rub so I could feel a bit of that Sour Power, and I headed back into his room.

I find him on his bed messin’ around with this Tootsie Roll and I say, “Honey Bunch leave, I needa have a few words with your jelly bean here.”

Reese gets up and says, “You? What do you want?”

I lifted my Twizzler and says, “I want what the fuck I paid for! And I want to end you, Froot Loop, cause you need to be taught that you don’t Cheeto a General!”

I pull back the Apple Jack ‘cause I always love that sound—Kit Kat. And Honey Bunch starts screamin’ and right as I’m about to Frito I hear that Ho-Ho sound and a “POLICE OPEN UP!” I say “Shit!” and I bounds back through the gum drop and I Kix out the screen door, couldn’t be bothered openin’ it, and I’m out.

But the thing is now, this all puts me a spot, something that’s been Devil Doggin’ me for a while. What I figure is that it was my Cap’n Crunch that called the cops on Count Chocula, takin’ my revenge, yessir, but where’s the honor in that? Whether the Cap’n had some larger scheme of it or somethin’ I don’t know, but I’m startin’ to doubt my brother now. If he in leagues with the Gobstoppers I can’t exactly be poppin’ my head in and out of his crib all the time, naw what I mean? And where else am I gonna cop my Treats?

I’m feelin’ like everyone around me Gummy Worms and Gummy Bears, man. It’s gettin’ sticky, and I don’t know how much S’more I can take.

Overheard in a Bagel Shop

I was tasked to eavesdrop on a conversation for my writing class. I holed up in a bagel shop and overheard the following interaction. The juiciest parts of it were taken down word for word. Had to fill in some of the gaps myself because the boy [Paul] was a mutterer. I did it up all nice and story-like for your reading pleasure. Two absurd New Yorkers in a bagel shop:

In an overpriced bagel shop in the Flatiron District, Ivy sat feigning lunch with her boyfriend Paul. She sat picking at her bagel and flipping locks of blue hair out of her face, glancing up every so often to watch Paul eating intently, and eating quietly. Ivy was a slim and wiry girl. She was an assortment of studded and patched jackets. Her boyfriend dressed like a college professor and had the academic scruff to match. Ivy had grown bored of eating long ago and struck up a line conversation, the first thing that popped in her head, trying to catch her boyfriend on her life of late.

“I applied for a topless modeling job in Times Square for body painting,” she said, “they never got back to me.”

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Paul said drily.

“Yeah! They’re going to miss out. I am awesome at public nudity; I don’t give a shit!”

Paul gave a meager smile and muttered, “How much were they going to get pay you?”

“$30. It would’ve been great.” Ivy crossed her legs and kept her eyes on Paul.

“$30 an hour?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, when I did that modeling thing over the summer,” Paul said, “I was getting $40 an hour for a two hour session, coming out to $80. I assume that the body painting takes a long time to do, so if you’re doing $30 an hour you will probably come out with some good money.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get it, Paul, they never got back to me. And what are you talking about your modeling for? Are you trying to compete with me or something?”

“No. I was just trying to give you some perspective.” Paul said.

Ivy sneered, “I don’t need your perspective, Paul, I just need a job and some money ‘cause I’m fucking broke. Doesn’t matter how much I get as long as its something. Hell, I’d consider doing it for free ‘cause it’d be fun.” Ivy looked at Paul and scrutinized his face for his reaction. Paul had turned back to his sandwich and said nothing.

Ivy sighed briefly and looked out towards the door and the avenue beyond it.

“I think you’d make a great body paint model,” said Paul softly.

“Thank you Paul,” Ivy said, shifting her sharp gaze back onto him.

The two sat for a minute in silence. Ivy scratched at a little crust on her jacket’s frayed shoulder and Paul ate. Then Ivy struck up another conversation again with the same random alacrity as before. “Imagine someone overhearing us here talking about modeling, they’d be saying: ‘What? They don’t look like models!’”

“Maybe you don’t, but I do.” Paul said melodically but quietly, smiling so that Ivy would know he was kidding.

She laughed. “Yeah, you look so high fashion! Haha! God forbid I ever get asked what I do: ‘I stand naked and get paid.’”

“Well you didn’t get the job, Ivy, so you don’t have to say that.” said Paul.

“What if I do get it? I’m going to be applying to others, maybe I’ll get those.”

“Then lie.”

“What?”

“Lie. Say you write children’s books or something. You should lie.” Paul said the last sentence very seriously.

Ivy murmured an approval and looked back out towards the door.