Candy Thriller

Candy Thriller

When I was about 11 years old, I was paying my weekly visit to my Dad and today he took a childhood friend of mine, named Bud and I to the movies for some cheap entertainment. 

Bud and I had been friends since grade school and we both liked going to the movies especially during those days when the slasher films were pretty much the thing.

We both climbed into Dad's beat up,old green Nova, with the ceiling cover that was sagging in the center, and headed south to the theater near Antioch.

I always got a thrill watching the previews of upcoming shows, hearing the sinister voice of the announcer read out the titles of the next thriller, enticing everyone to attend.

I remember getting to the parking spot and feeling like I could rush up to the ticket counter just catch the scent of fresh popcorn.  

After we got the tickets and the snacks, we all went into the theater to watch the movie without any incident.  

After it was over, the three of us exited the theater and started talking about the movie itself. It was then, that Bud said something that was concerning.

"Hmmm,  I wonder if my candy is okay?”, Bud said.

Dad looked at him and said,  "what do you mean?”

“Well, it tasted weird to me.  I don't know..”

Continuing to look straight ahead, Dad asked, “did you notice anything about the wrapping? “

“No, I didn't notice anything.”

Dad shook his head and said while walking to the car. “Oh well.  I guess we'll have to tell your parents, then.  I hope you've got everything in order.” 

“What?!” Bud exclaimed “what are you talking about?”

Dad backed out of the spot, looking behind him and said, “well, you said that the candy tasted funny.  You know that someone's been putting cyanide in candy, killing kids.”

"Yeah.  You don't think they put cyanide on it, do you?", he scoffed.  “Come on!”

With a blank stare, Dad looked straight ahead and said calmly, "I don't know. If you were poisoned, there's no way we would know right now.  You find out for another 7 hours."

Bud  started to tremble a bit and shook his head.  "Come on, man!"

"What do you mean? ", Dad said.  "I didn't buy a partially opened roll of candy; You did that.  I would always look at first.  That's just common sense.  It's your own fault!”

Bud stared at him for a  while, his mouth hanging open.  He turned back to the front and just stared at the road.

“Well,. let's get you to the emergency room, for all the good they can do,” he said with a sigh of frustration.

"What are they gonna do?", Bud asked.

"Not much, really." , Dad replied with a barely perceptible smile. "They'll just run a test for cyanide and basically tell you what we already know.  You had eaten some candy laced with cyanide and you're gonna die 7 hours."

Bud looked down at his hands still holding the roll of candy, his lips trembling. “It's not fair!”, he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Keep the candy so they can test it”, Dad said to him.

At this point, I had to put a stop to this, or at least try.

"No, no, no!”, I shouted. “ Cyanide only takes a few minutes at most and you would notice the symptoms way sooner.   There's no way you got poisoned with cyanide!”

Bud heard me, but he kept staring straight ahead at the road in front of us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my father's face darken , moving from barely perceptible smile, to a cold scowl, that usually came when he felt his authority was being questioned.  

Part of me regretted saying anything at all, not wanting to set him off, but I couldn't stand to see Bud suffer like that.

"You don't know what you're talking about!", Dad snarled loudly. "It takes 7 hours!  You've just been listening to your mother and her daaammn books!"

I watched him for a bit, his face was still scowling, his lower lip jutter forward and his eyes were bulging.  

I remained silent for the rest of the drive to the hospital.

"It's not fair, man!", he said through his sniffles.  

I thought about telling him that my Dad was wrong again, but I knew that Dad would shut that down again.  I looked at Bud and I saw that my Dad's little scheme was already working.  He fully believed that he was going to die and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it.  It was like a horror film coming to life.

I looked back to my Dad and his slight smile returned as he continued to drive. 

I remained silent, wondering whether or not, he was really going to take us to an hospital. As soon as the thought came into my mind, Dad parked the car right by the hospital.  

“Here you go! Good luck!”, he said.

I got out of the car first, to let Bud out. Slowly, his lips trembling and his legs shaking, Bud got out of the car in a daze like a man walking to his doom, not wanting to cross that threshold.  

As soon as he got out, Dad burst out laughing his belly shaking with mirth at his impromptu prank.

"That was cruel!",.Bud yelled.  "It was absolutely unforgivable!". 

"Whoooo!!!", Dad shouted. ”Ha, ha, ha, haaaah!  I had you goin'!  I got you good!

You were really gonna go in the hospital and tell 'em you were dyin! Ha,ha,ha, haaaah!"

Bud was still wiping the hot tears from his face, still shouting at Dad while Dad continued his celebration, cackling wildly, ignoring Bud entirely.

Later that day, Bud and I talked a bit. He remembered previous conversations we’d had concerning my Dad's behavior and now he had a taste of it. He was still shaking from the experience.

I knew that my father could inflict pain for his own pleasure, but I didn't think he would do it in such a way, nor did I think he would do it to someone who was not a family member.

Sometime after that, Bud and I lost contact with each other, probably with good reason.

Dad still took me to various movies for our weekly visits,including horror movies, but I never saw Bud again.

When I turned 18, the court ordered visits stopped and I gradually decreased the amount of time I spent with him.

To this day, I still enjoy the horror genre, knowing full well that the thrill experienced in the safety of the theater is nothing compared to the terror he could inflict in real life.