Once again it's time to don our witch's hat or vampire fangs and parade about the neighborhood collecting treats from the freindly neighbors, and playing tricks on the not-so-friendly ones. This year, as in all previous years, I have made my costume. I am a partially-chewed bog bone, inspired by my late labrador's love of bones from the butcher, of which Mother still buys and Sissy still gnaws on from time to time (usually when she's on a diet and she desperately needs protien. And blood). Tonight I shall fiercely guard my loot so as not to repeat the incident last Halloween which has bewildered me, and my detective alter-ego Mr. Detective, for the last 365 days. I speak of the Great Candy Caper, or the Case of the Missing Halloween Candy. I shall start from the beginning...
2005 saw perhaps my finest costume design: an Imperial AT-AT from The Empire Strikes Back. Unfortunately it was so big and heavy I had to leave it at home and use Sissy's old bat costume. My best friend Pete and I wandered the neighborhood, filling our pillowcases with Snickers, SweetTarts, M & M's, and other Halloween favorites. After a few hours and countless houses (including old Granny McCracken's, who once again provided us each with a penny and some crayons), we decided to call it quits for the evening. I lugged my sack home feeling the weight of the fruits of my labor. Dad was passed out in front of the TV, some B-grade horror flick quietly screaming in the background. Mother, eying my pillowcase hungrily, welcomed me home. Sissy wandered down from her room with Bobby Walker (from down the street) in tow and made a snide comment regarding my costume. To be fair, the black leggings had become a couple sizes two small since I'd last worn the costume. None the less, I returned the comment with one of my own regarding the musky stench of sex and pot emanating from her body. This is the freeze-frame moment. All suspects are present in this scene, each with their own motive for stealing the lime-green and yellow-striped pillow case filled with treats.
I had gone to my room, pillowcase in hand, to count and separate each piece by size, kind, color and age. I remember setting the candy next to my dresser as I undressed for bed. When I awoke the next morning, ready for a breakfast of Almond Joys and Starburst, the candy was missing, my door was ajar and my window was open. A ransom note saying simply "Thanks," was found next to my pillow.
Dad: perhaps when he awoke, with a hangover and a headache, he ate some candy trying to soak up the alcohol. Problem is, Dad rarely eats and candy is probably the last thing he'd put in his mouth. Generally his meals are of the liquid variety. The only reason he'd have to steal my candy would be to teach me some non-lesson about personal property.
Mother: overweight and always hungry (much like dear departed Kitty), she could eat the entire sack in just one sitting. She was my prime suspect for a long time until she confessed. Mother NEVER confesses her crimes, choosing to mask her guilt with half-baked excuses and horribly inept lying. She's now at the bottom of the list.
Sissy: my prime suspect, she's forever looking for ways to push my buttons and make my life a living hell. She'd steal my candy and flush it down the toilet piece by piece just for a laugh (I know because that's what she did three years ago. I was left with stale Bit O Honey's and, of course, Granny M's crayons). Problem is, she does evil things to my face, not behind my back. Also, I don't have a shread of evidence against her, no matter how hard I've tried to plant some.
Bobby Walker (from down the street): he's merely a suspect based on being present at the time of the crime. I have no reason to believe he is involved in the heist, except I saw him munching on a Milky Way when he left that night and I don't know where he could have gotten it. According to Sissy that's not the only thing he munched on. Based on her statement he remains a top suspect.
Years of intense CSI viewing has taught me that things are not always what they seem. Perhaps the candy theft was not an inside job as I orginally suspected. Clues leading to another suspect altogether would be my open bedroom window, a trail of candy wrappers leading into the woods, small as-yet-unidentified fibers, fingerprints and DNA from Sissy's bed, Pete's suddenly doubled Halloween haul, and the ransom note found sitting on my pillow. So far they have yielded no leads. I did end up recovering the pillowcase, empty besides the crayons crushed to pieces, under the trampoline in the back yard. Sadly, this case, along with all the others, has found it's way to the Cold files where it sits today. I may never find out who stole the candy, but Mr. Detective never gives up. And in a bold move I decided that tonight I will give my sack to Pete for safe keeping. Tomorrow morning I shall have a breakfast of Reese's Pieces and Butterfingers.
