by Kristen Rose
The Other Side of the Marshmallow
By Kristen Rose
Copyright 2013 Kristen Rose
*****
Today I found a gold ring. It was encrusted with pink candy diamonds; and I like pink candy diamonds. The ring was on a path in the middle of Candy Park. I like Candy Park, there’s just something about the smell of blooming Malteaser bushes that gets me in the mood. Actually, it’s not just the Malteaser bushes; it’s also the candy apple trees. You can do a lot with candy apples, both inside and outside of the park. But that’s an unrelated topic.
The diamond candies in the ring formed a letter. The letter X. I thought it was odd; you don’t see many rings with the letter X.
I scanned the park. No one else was around. I decided I had two options. Keep the ring, or hand it in.
It would have been easy for me to keep the ring. No one else was there to see me take it. But then I thought if I took the ring I would most definitely have the Chocolatiers to contend with.
Memories of the Chocolatiers coming after me at the sadistic age of six came flooding back. I still think prying all of the musk sticks out of the Mayor’s gate was the right thing to do. The Chocolatiers said I should have left the musk sticks in the gate because they weren’t mine to take. I don’t see why the Mayor, who is practically gorging on chocolate coins, would miss a few musk sticks. He could just trade his coins for some more. Besides, the gingerbread men really needed those musk sticks. You can’t re-enact the Star Wars trilogy without some kind of light sabre. I suppose they could have used big boss cigars, but it wouldn’t have been the same. They’re brown with red tips; they bear no resemblance at all to light sabers. Perhaps if the Mayor didn’t hog all of the musk sticks then the gingerbread men could have traded some chocolates coins for their own.
The Chocolatiers caramelised me up hard and sticky because of that. I should add that the gingerbread men didn’t get into trouble at all. They lied. They said the entire escapade had been my idea. Why would I want to re-enact the Star Wars trilogy? I hate Star Wars.
I don’t speak to the gingerbread men anymore.
As much as I really wanted to steal the ring, there was no way I was willing to be caramelised again. It burns.
So I thought about handing it in. As long as I went straight to the Peanut Station there would be no chance of the Chocolatiers coming after me. But I was in Candy Park; the Peanut Station is way on the other side of town. It would be a long way to go to return a ring and I wouldn’t get anything for it; probably just a brisk ‘thank you’ from the peanut clusters and a free licorice whip to take home. I like licorice but there would be no guarantee what kind of licorice they would give me. I like normal, aniseed flavoured licorice but they could have given me apple or coffee flavoured licorice or, god forbid, raspberry flavoured licorice. It was too much effort and too much of a risk.
Then it occurred to me that I could just leave the ring on the path. Someone else would find it and maybe they would turn it in. Or maybe the owner would come back looking for it. And I really was in a hurry.
I needed to get to Cherry Ripe Bridge. I had a date with a white chocolate Freddo who works the night shift at Truffle Palace; that’s the best restaurant in downtown Marshmallow. Their truffle soufflé is worth melting for.
But, that’s not why I agreed to go on a date with him …
Then I remembered about the new Sticky Situation Mandate. With all of the new security cameras around the park, I was sure to have been captured bending down and staring at the ring and the consequences of walking away and leaving it for another to find would have been far worse. I really had no choice but to hand the ring in.
I bent down and tried to pick it up. It was completely fused into the toffee footpath. I cursed the Mayor for approving the echo friendly toffee footpaths instead of the much more practical cellophane ones.
I pulled harder on the ring and eventually it came free, bringing with it a stringy trail of golden brown toffee. I was tempted to eat some but once again remembered the cameras; I didn’t want the pastry chefs to come after me either. Also, hundreds of confectionaries walk on that path daily, who knew where they had been. Some of the confectionaries don’t wash their wrappers and others don’t wear any at all!
My urge to eat the toffee faded.
I looked at my candy watch to see how much time I had before I needed to meet my sweet white Freddo at the bridge. I had thirty minutes. I figured if I caught a gummy taxi to the Peanut Station I would have just enough time to hand the ring in, get my licorice whip and race over to the bridge.
I ran out of the park, trying desperately not to crack my candy shell (the last thing I needed was to get bits of my peanut everywhere) and stopped when I reached the nearest street. I hailed a taxi and luckily got one straight away.
I hopped in quickly.
‘Where to?’ The driver, a red gummy bear, asked me.
‘The Peanut Station please, and make it quick, I’m in a hurry.’
The driver slammed his squishy paw on the accelerator. It was a good thing the taxi was a gummy car; otherwise, I would have completely shattered my shell. He swerved in and out of the traffic, scathing past other taxis and almost colliding with one of the downtown rocky-road buses; now that would have been a sticky situation. I was worried his driving was going to cause a stress fracture right down the front of my shell, ruining my typewriter ‘m’. When we finally pulled up outside the Peanut Station I let out a huge sigh, releasing the aroma of chocolate and peanuts inside the cab, threw a few chocolate coins at the gummy bear and bounced the door shut.
I raced into the station and approached the first vacant counter. The peanut cluster sitting behind it looked far from delicious; you could see where parts of him had melted onto his desk and chair, exposing his salty nuts.
‘What can I do for you?’ He asked me.
‘Well, I was walking in Candy Park just now and I found this ring on one of the paths. I thought I would do the right thing and hand it in.’ With slight contempt, I placed the pink candy diamond ring on the counter. The peanut cluster picked it up.
‘This ring is fake.’ He said loudly.
‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s fake, made of hard toffee, not diamond candy.’ He looked up at me.
‘What? It’s not made of diamond candy?’
‘No.’ He said slowly, then winked at me. ‘I’d say a Chico baby probably got it out of a Kinder Surprise and accidentally dropped it in the park. It happens all the time.’
‘Oh. Umm, well, I guess you don’t want it then?’
‘No, I don’t want it.’ He winked at me again. ‘But, thanks for coming all the way down here. Your chocolate heart was in the right place. Here, take a licorice whip for your trouble.’ He bent down and pulled out a glistening raspberry licorice whip.
‘Don’t you have any normal licorice whips?’
‘No, sorry. I just gave the last one to that guy over there.’ He pointed behind me. I turned and saw a gingerbread man, sucking away on what should have been my licorice whip. I really hate those gingerbread men.
‘Thanks.’ I said to the peanut cluster, taking my whip. ‘Sorry to have bothered you.’
‘Not a problem.’
I started to walk away from the counter but stopped when I heard him whispering something I looked back. ‘Excuse me?’
He looked at the peanut clusters either side of him and around the rest of the room then repeated what he had whispered. ‘Meet me out back in ten minutes.’
‘Umm, sorry ... I can’t. I have a date and if I don’t leave now I’ll be late.’
‘Trust me M & M, it’ll be worth it.’ He looke
d at the ring in my hand. I nodded.
I exited the front of the building casually and walked down the side alley heading to the back entrance. I felt uncomfortable. The alley was full of homeless Bounties, Curly Wurlies and Chomps; the unwanted confectionaries. I walked past them as quickly as I could.
I waited outside the back door of the station for the peanut cluster, checking my watch repeatedly; if he didn’t show up soon I was definitely going to be late.
‘What took you so long? I have somewhere I need to be.’ I spat at him when he appeared.
‘I had to make sure no one followed me out here. Do you have the ring?’ He pulled a packet of fads out of his pocket, took one out and put it in his mouth, sucking hungrily.
‘Yes … What’s this all about? I thought you said the ring was fake?’
‘What, do you have peanuts for brains?’
‘Yes, I do.’
He let out a frustrated moan and took the fad out of his mouth. ‘The ring isn’t fake