The Popcorn Colonel
© 2018 Toni Anderson
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Print ISBN: 978-1-54394-355-9
eBook ISBN: 978-1-54394-356-6
Table of Contents
Prologue
CHAPTER ONE – The Zuckerwattes
CHAPTER TWO – The Glasses
CHAPTER THREE – The Bus Ride
CHAPTER FOUR – The Popcorn Made At Home
CHAPTER FIVE – The Cotton Candy Movie House
CHAPTER SIX – The Time Stood Still
CHAPTER SEVEN – The Locked Door
CHAPTER EIGHT – The Disappearance of Mr. Zuckerwatte
CHAPTER NINE – The Contents of The Golden Box
CHAPTER TEN – The Back Door
CHAPTER ELEVEN – The Discovery of Stock Om
CHAPTER TWELVE – The Mayor’s Explanation
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – The Special Forces
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – The Wild West
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – The Littlefield of Dreams
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – The Pirates’ Harbor
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – The Movie Choosing
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – The Beacon and The Town Square
CHAPTER NINETEEN – The Details of The Plan
CHAPTER TWENTY – The Rescue Mission
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – The Return Home
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – The Offer
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – The Retelling
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR – The Late Night
Prologue
“Sound the alarm,” shouted the Sergeant, urgency and confusion overcoming him. His sharp eyes scanned the room and halted on the source of the catastrophe. Soda Pop Falls were flooding the room at a devastating rate.
“Barricade Soda Pop Falls,” ordered the Sergeant, and his troops scattered.
“Ahem, sir, the… the b... beacon is umm, well it’s malfunctioning…sir,” stammered a voice behind the Sergeant. He turned to find one of his men clearly upset at being the one chosen to alert him to the problem. In the background chaos had erupted as all of the townspeople were pointing blame in any direction but their own. The Sergeant knew they needed to notify the Colonel immediately. If the beacon wasn’t repaired by tonight, everything would be in jeopardy when the popcorn was popped.
CHAPTER ONE
The Zuckerwattes
Leaves tumbled down in fiery hues swirling to the ground as the school bus stopped on Maize Row. Ms. Tulia pulled the lever on the door, and two children officially departed the school day, exiting the bus. The air was crisp and smelled of damp leaves. Autumn in Shuckersville was the best time of year; everyone said so.
“Why does the bus ride to school seem to take less time than it does to ride home?” Marie asked her best friend William as they walked away from the bus stop. “I mean it just doesn’t make sense,” she said tugging at the bobby pin in her red hair that had lost its grip during the grueling day at school. The freckles on her nose wrinkled into a crease as she struggled to reposition it. “I’m anxious to finish my book, I’m on the last chapter,” she said, patting the green velveteen book bag slung over her shoulder that her Granny had made for her.
“Well before you start reading, you’ve got to come up with your guess on what kind of movie will be showing,” William replied with a grin, looking down at Marie as he pulled his baseball cap from his backpack and put in on. It was navy blue with red stitching. His dad had bought it for him as a souvenir from a baseball game in the city. The hat had frayed from constant wear, and there was a snag in the top. Over the summer break, he had misjudged the height of a tree limb hanging over the sidewalk. By the time he realized what had happened and stopped his bike, his hat was missing. Behind him, Marie had stopped her bike as well and was laughing hysterically at his cap hanging from the tree branch. She liked to remind him of the incident on occasion.
Earlier, during the bus ride home, William and Marie had been discussing possible movies that might be showing at the theater over the weekend. They liked to see who could get closest to the right answer. It was always a surprise because the unknown owner of the theater didn’t put a poster in the “now showing” frame until Friday. The anticipation was the best part, and since the one-screen movie theater was the only place for miles and miles that you could go to for a break from boring old Shuckersville, almost everyone looked forward to it. For around ninety minutes you could be transported to somewhere else. William always hoped for a movie about a baseball field or a superhero, and Marie wished upon every star she could see for something magical with castles and princesses. On movie preferences, William and Marie differed but had almost everything else in common.
“Will,” said Marie as they were parting ways: “You didn’t say why you thought the bus ride takes longer going home; do you think it’s because we are so ready to get there?”
He shrugged his shoulders; William didn’t mind going to school but he preferred to be home and was always ready to get there. He always had his eyes peeled for an adventure or a chance to discover something the way heroes act in the movies. Over the summer, he and his dad had built a fort in the backyard, and he pretended he was out in uncharted lands looking for a lost treasure; lately, however, he hadn’t encountered anything fascinating. He had actually begun to think he was trying too hard to find his treasure, and he lost interest. The problem was that he wanted a real adventure, not a make-believe one. Something beyond the movie screen. But in Shuckersville, every day was the same. However, he had, for the most part, finally accepted his fate that he couldn’t just go out and find a real adventure -- not in Shuckersville, anyway. He still felt the pang of a recently developed and nagging feeling that something big was going to happen to him. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but sometimes it was all he could think about. Whatever it was, it was not waiting to be found nor was it going to just show up. He knew he would have to meet this adventure halfway, and when the time came he was going to have to decide whether or not he had the heart and guts that the adventure called for. He was still lost in thought when a sudden gust of afternoon wind threatened to steal his ball cap, bringing him back to the sidewalk he was walking down. In the distance Marie’s bright pink shoes blinked along the sidewalk as she went to meet her Granny, who was waiting for her on the front lawn.
William waived to Mr. and Mrs. Zuckerwatte, who he thought must be at least one hundred years old. They seemed slightly odd to most of the neighbors on their street, and the fact that they spoke in thick German accents only added to their mystery. Even though they were strange, they had kind faces, and William really liked them. Mrs. Zuckerwatte was as sweet as spun sugar. She always wore her silver hair swept up into a bun on the top of her head. Most of her clothes were red, her favorite color. When she pulled the pesky weeds from the red poppies in the garden, she blended in so splendidly that she almost disappeared entirely. She liked to make William apfelsaft and springerle, which she had explained to him was German for apple juice and cookies.
Mr. Zuckerwatte was tall; his white hair was peppered here and there with the hints of the black hair he once had as a young man. He typically wore trousers and button-down shirts, which were accompanied by lightweight sweaters; he always wore a shiny golden pin on the collar of his sweater. The scar shaped like the letter “Z” on his right cheek morphed into other shapes when he spoke, and William was fascinated by it. Mr. Zuckerwatte wouldn’t talk about how he got the scar, but he said it was okay for William to call him Mr. Z. It was a grand coin
cidence that William’s last name also began with a “Z.” Mr. Zuckerwatte worked at the movie theater part time. William supposed it might be for free tickets. Mr. Zuckerwatte loved movies! Often times he would sit in the backyard overlooking a cornstalk that grew there. Every evening, precisely at 7:00, he lit the lanterns that surrounded it. William never asked about the cornstalk or about the fact that it was oddly surrounded by lanterns; he figured Mr. Zuckerwatte would have told him about it if he had wanted to. When William and his dad visited Mr. Zuckerwatte, he never missed an opportunity to teach William the importance of attention to details and the benefits of keeping a routine. William learned, not just by listening but also by watching the exceptional example Mr. Zuckerwatte set. The Zuckerwattes had lived next door to William for almost a year, and he had decided that overall, one had to admit that that they were great neighbors.
As William walked across the Zuckerwatte’s lawn for his after-school snack, a beam of reflected sunlight caught his eye right away; it shot out like a lighthouse beacon beside the apple juice and cookies. The only remaining untarnished spot on the latch of an old grey chest about the size of a shoebox was glinting in the afternoon sun. Mrs. Zuckerwatte was rocking in her chair, reading a purple book with gold-edged pages. William walked up the porch steps and remembered the story of the rocking chair. It had been a wedding gift, and she had taken it with her to the many places they had lived during Mr. Zuckerwatte’s military career.
While he was ever so curious about the box, William didn’t mention it. He had three cookies and emptied his juice glass, thanked Mrs. Zuckerwatte, and made his way home and told his dad all about his day. Later, once William had finished his homework, he took a quick bath and brushed his teeth. It was getting close to his bedtime but since he wasn’t sleepy, he decided to work on his model airplane. As he passed his bedroom window on the way to his desk, he noticed that Mr. Zuckerwatte’s cornstalk lanterns had not been lit. He looked at the clock on his nightstand; 7:28 p.m. glowed back at him. Mr. Zuckerwatte should have lit them by now. Every night, like clockwork, the seven old fashioned lanterns that surrounded the cornstalk glowed like a ring of gigantic fireflies. Some nights William watched the lighting of the lanterns. With the care and skill of a well-practiced hand, Mr. Zuckerwatte lit each wick, then watered the cornstalk. The lantern lighting and the cornstalk seemed out of the ordinary to William and a bit strange, which, ironically, was normal when it came to Mr. Zuckerwatte. On a few occasions, William was sure Mr. Zuckerwatte had noticed him watching his lighting of the lanterns. However, tonight was different, since the lanterns were not lit, and William was not sure what to do. This had never happened before as far as he knew. Surprising himself, he decided he would be the one to light the lanterns tonight. Perhaps it would make Mr. Zuckerwatte proud. “Attention to detail!” he heard a memory remind him in Mr. Zuckerwatte’s voice. He slipped on his shoes. Bugs surrounded the porch light when he flipped it on. He opened the door, and cool air chilled his nose. Zipping up his jacket he crept outside to light the lanterns, heading straight for the matches. He grabbed them from the dented tin can in the garden box on the back-porch steps where Mr. Zuckerwatte kept them dry. William struggled with the first match against the striker, and the match snapped into two pieces. He withdrew a second match from the can and struck it against the striker. He swiped it again and again with no luck. Losing confidence, he pulled a third match from the can with gritted teeth. Taking a deep breath to steady his frustration, he flicked the match head against the striker. A tiny orange flame whipped around in the night air, clinging closely to the match head. Grinning, William began to light the lanterns in the proper order just as he had seen his old friend do many times before. He soon discovered he wasn’t as efficient as Mr. Zuckerwatte, who could light all the lanterns with just one match. William, on the other hand, had been through about 12 matches, including the first two that he now considered to be practice matches. Then he poured one garden can full of water on the dirt around the cornstalk, no more and no less.
William replaced the match tin in the garden box and looked back at his work, which was illuminating the yard with its familiar glow. He was headed home, when he felt an invisible tug behind him, as if he were being watched. Looking cautiously over his shoulder, he discovered a lamp-lit window near which Mr. Zuckerwatte sat, nodding his head and smiling in approval. William beamed with pride, and he was sure he had been a big help. Mr. Z. seemed pleased. He was not sure why Mr. Zuckerwatte had not come outside; maybe he was too tired. Hoping he was all right, he gave Mr. Zuckerwatte a wave as his rather large yawn captured the cool evening air. His eyelids were heavy as he turned the knob on the back door of his house to go inside. He snuck back to his room, skipping the squeaky fourth step on the staircase without making a sound, then kicked his shoes off and got into bed. Soon everyone on Maize Row was sound asleep.
CHAPTER TWO
The Glasses
The next morning William grabbed his backpack and a sausage biscuit and headed out- side to wait for the school bus. Something under the hedge flashed and caught William’s attention as he walked toward the street. Upon closer inspection, under the hedge he discovered a dull gray box tucked away. He shoved the last bite of breakfast into his mouth, knelt down on both knees, and reached under the hedge; the weight of his backpack almost knocked him off balance. Struggling as the contents on his backpack shifted, he retrieved the box and sat back on his feet to examine it. Was this the same box that had been on the table at the Zuckerwattes? Surely not. But it had the same spot of untarnished gold on the latch; and tucked under the latch was a small scroll of paper. Curious, he took the miniature scroll and unrolled it. In thick black ink, a message was carefully and precisely written:
Take this box and open it.
William’s heart raced, and he looked around to see if anyone was watching. This was practically a treasure chest, and his heart rapped against his rib cage, urging him to open it. For a moment William pretended some pirate had hidden it away on an uncharted island somewhere long ago, and somehow it had ended up under the hedge in his yard. He pulled on the latch and with a plink, it sprung back on its hinge. “Some pirate,” he said to himself, “this isn’t even locked.” Lifting the lid, he discovered that the pirate’s treasure chest wasn’t overflowing with jewels, gold coins, or treasure maps as he had hoped. Instead, two pairs of peculiar looking eyeglasses were folded and nestled into a bed of green velvet. This definitely wasn’t pirate treasure. Snapping back to reality, William looked over to the Zuckerwatte’s house; maybe it was the magic of the moment, but it struck William that the house looked like something from one of the fairytale stories that Marie loved so much. Through new eyes the steep pitch of the roof flowed down into ornately carved deep chocolate wood that matched the front door. The rich plum paint on the trim around the windows and doors against the butter cream walls of the house made the whole thing look like a decadent dessert. William’s mind was all over the place. He looked back down at the box and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He heard a voice in his head trying to reason with him, “If it doesn’t make sense then it’s nonsense…,” and William decided that made perfect sense.
The bus driver was waiting, drumming her fingers on the big steering wheel. How had William not even realized the bus had arrived? He slammed the lid of the box closed and tried concealing it in his jacket; he boarded the bus and sat down with Marie. As the bus pulled away, he looked over to the Zuckerwatte’s house and tried to figure out what was going on. The sheer ivory curtains had been tied back in billowing swoops like sails on a ship in the living room window. Mr. Zuckerwatte was inside, nodding his head and smiling in approval just as he had done the night before. He raised a monocle up to his right eye, studying the world outside. He had been watching the hedge as well as his pocket watch. All too soon, the Zuckerwatte’s house was out of sight. William could not recall a time when he had ever seen Mr. Zuckerwatte wear any type of eyewear.
“What’s that?” Marie asked pointing at the lump under William’s jacket. “Do we have a project due?” Marie started to panic. “Is it show and tell?”
“No.” William answered. “I found this under the hedge in the yard.”
He opened his mystery box, took out a pair of glasses, put them on, and looked out the window. The bus slowed down significantly, so much so that it barely moved. It was quite out of character for Ms. Tulia to slow down here or at all, for that matter. She was very prompt and always delivered the children to school at the exact same time every day. At this rate, they were going to be late, very late. William caught his reflection in the bus window; he looked like an undercover agent from the old black and white movies his dad liked to watch. The black framed glasses had strange earpieces that wrapped behind his ears and under each earlobe. He probably looked ridiculous. Thankfully, everyone else on the bus was too busy with other things to notice him. He took the glasses off, and immediately the bus picked up speed. William was pressed back in his seat as he examined the glasses further.
Marie looked up from the book she was reading. “Those glasses must belong to someone,” she suggested. “Maybe the owner misplaced them or dropped them by mistake. They look like they came from someone’s attic… a long… long time ago,” she said with a bit of a smirk.
“This may sound weird, but I think Mr. Z. wanted me to find them,” said William. Then he told her all about the box on the table yesterday afternoon and how he had lit the lanterns without leaving out any of the details.
“That’s brilliant, Will. Sounds like Mr. Z. definitely wanted you to light the lanterns. That cornstalk is totally strange, but the lanterns are really pretty; they almost seem magical to me. I bet that is his box. Honestly though, I wonder why he didn’t just ask you to light the lanterns for him and just give you the box?” said Marie.
The Popcorn Colonel Page 1