Everything was peaceful and quiet. The sun was shining over all the buildings and houses and our favorite candy shop was just opening for the day, with the owner flipping the sign on the door just as we turned the corner, letting everyone know that it was open. The shop was called “Bob & Son’s Candy City” and my friend, Bill, would always get their homemade fudge whenever we visited their store. We walked through the door and into the usual smell of chocolate and gingerbread.
There was a tiny bell that would always ring when someone walked in. It was a very distinctive sound that let Bob and his son know they had business. The shelves of the shop were full of all kinds of stuff, like m&ms, candy bars, skittles, tic tacs, soda, ice cream, and all sorts of colorful licorice. They had soda and a variety of cookies and cakes that they had baked themselves! We walked up to the front counter as Bob greeted us.
“Well, well, well, looks like my two favorite customers are the first ones in here this morning. I’ll tell you what. I’m in a good mood. Today you can pick one thing in here for free. And good luck, there are so many choices! Me and Jake really need help with our addiction to junk food, anyway. Isn’t that right, Jake?”
“You’re too funny, dad!” Jake responded as he mopped the floor on the other side of the room.
“Thank you, son!” Bob said.
We looked around at all the options. It was so hard to choose. And all the distractions from the bright artwork on the walls down to the light that was phasing through the window, lighting up the entire shop, making it feel like a magical place.
That’s when we heard sirens and Bob’s face turned real pale when about five police officers, with two of them being from different townships, pulled up in front of the store. The cops quickly got out of their car and rushed through the door, signaling the bell’s very distinctive sound that let Bob and his son know they had business. The cops took a moment to glance around the store real quick because why wouldn’t they? It’s hard not to notice all the good stuff in there. They’ve got m&ms, candy bars, skittles, tic tacs, soda, ice cream, and all sorts of colorful licorice. Bob looked past us from behind the counter and greeted the officers.
“Shut up,” one of the cops told him before mumbling something into his walkie talkie.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked as he held onto the mop with shaky hands. He looked like he was ready to faint.
“Shut up,” another officer snapped.
“Please don’t talk to my son like that,” Bob said.
“Sir, you both know what you did,” the cop replied. “Check the back!” He yelled to the others.
Fifteen seconds later they returned to the counter from the back.
“Just as we suspected.” One said. “You’re under arrest.”
The officers looked at Bob, who was standing silently trying to think of what to say.
“Don’t act like you aren’t aware of what money laundering is. That won’t be your only charge. Over the past month,we’ve gathered enough evidence to validate the rumors that you have, in fact, been spitting in the ice cream and mixing dog turds in the fudge!”
“You sick man,” one officer said, shaking his head.
Bill stopped chewing and threw the piece of fudge he had just bought into the trash.
“Why would you do this, sir?”
Bob stood there and thought for a moment.
“Well… I guess I’m… I’m… I’m just a psychopath.”
He stood there behind the counter like a sad, defeated man as the police walked over and arrested him and his son. On their way out, they took one last look at the place. They were leaving so much behind, m&ms, candy bars, skittles, tic tacs, soda, ice cream, and all sorts of colorful licorice. My friend and I did the same. It would be the last day the place was open. Not that it meant a lot since any memories of stopping by were poisoned knowing I had been eating dog crap for over a year. The sun was no longer lighting up the room and it started raining outside. We never knew how crazy Bob would look in the rain until he was walking to the police car. It sent shivers down my spine. That man needed to be locked up.
That was the last time anyone would ever see Bob or Jake. What’s almost as disappointing as the shop closing down was the fact that I was supposed to be attending a birthday party that day but those officers had a lot of questions for me…
David Hamell is an 11th grader at North Penn High School who enjoys writing and drawing. He writes short stories during school whether it's for a creative writing class, Troubadour, or just for fun. Outside of school, he is writing a long misadventure story that he hopes to publish in the future involving gangs, Australia, and two criminals named Andy and Barbie.