The Candy Store

The street was slick. Harold Bogart’s umbrella could not keep him even remotely dry. From across the street eccentric Mrs. Reynolds was watering her plants for the third time that time; she feeds them three times a day; she doesn’t think plants are so far apart from humans that they don’t deserve the same comfortable, controlled redundancies. She said, “look at Mr. Bogie over there, Julia, his gray uniform looks almost translucent in this cat and dog rain.” The orchid did not reply.

A few block from Mrs. Reynolds was Harold Bogart’s house. He ran up the concrete steps, and clipped his umbrella shut as he went for the door. Honey, I’m home! He used to say, once upon a time. Now he just murmurs to himself, and to the grim brownstone possibly, “the end.”

Elma was in the kitchen, banging things on surfaces or banging cabinet doors and drawers shut. She moved like a hippo in a Chinese kitchen. She looked like a hippo, too.

Hi Hon’, he managed to say—he’s had enough practice to say it in a cheerful manner. What’s for dinner?

Grub. She said. And continued on banging; a pan was getting a beating from a spatula. He leaned and peeped at the stuff that was between the quarreling utensils; it sure looked like grub.

I’ll be upstairs, changing, he told her. He went upstairs, gray walls reminded him of the swelling rain outside.

“Hey, Joe” he said, looking into the boy’s room.

No reply. Joe was playing with some Transformers; expensive toys; he had just had his birthday. Hey, Joe, his called once again. The Autobots were in a crucial battle with the evil leader Megatron; Optimus Prime’s head was inches away from one of Joe’s feet; the autobots needed to win!

Alright, Joe, see you later…son. He closed the door. Went to this room. Entered his room. Closed the door, silently; though it creaked. He wanted to bang it, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to disturb the peace.

II

Harold Bogart's section of the company made old-fashioned typewriters. They made them, they fixed them. Mr. Bogart was in charge of the Fix It department. All day long he dealt with paperwork, boss memos, employee complaints. It was a very exciting job.

III

Harold Bogart decides to leave work early.