POISON KANDIE
(Stories)
Razor Apple
By: THIRTEENTWO
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Sweet and Sour KandieBook View/ Sign Home
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Lloyd, a sixty-seven year old retiree, walked out of the local store with a gentle smile on his face and a brown paper bag in his arms. Lotta problems solved tonight, he thought. For the first time in a very long time, he was looking forward to Halloween night. He couldn't remember being so excited about October 31st since he was a kid. Lloyd walked down the sidewalk, heading home. Two kids came speeding towards him on their bikes. They narrowly missed him, but he lost his grip on the bag. "You kids!" he shouted. "Outta the way, old man!" one of them shouted from behind a Halloween mask. Another Halloween was to come and go as many did before and many more would after. He scooped up apples and a package of razors into the bag, along with other groceries he bought at the store. Lloyd continued his walk home, he gripped the bag tighter, a sneer on his lips, anger burned in his eyes. He remembered when he was a kid, he didn't remember showing so much disrespect to his elders. "Tonight'll be a better day." he whispered before walking inside. "Mary, what are you doing?" he shouted. He knew what she was doing but he asked anyway. "Putting up some webs for the kids." She said. "Halloween's tonight ya know Lloyd. Don't be a Halloween scrooge." Happiness, warmth, and laughter filled her voice. She smiled at him and continued putting webs around the door and the bushes. "I'm not gonna.." he started to say but she interrupted him. "Yeah I know, you won't clean it up. I know that you big ole stick in the mud. I'll clean it up." "Well.." he let the sentence trail off. Lloyd shook his head and went inside. After he put away the apples and other things, Mary came inside, rubbing her hands together. He watched her a moment, standing in the doorway, smiling. She was five years younger then him but looked twice that when she smiled. Age was only an issue in the beginning, his issue. She always made him happy inside. She didn't have to pick him but she did. She was beautiful (to him she still was), smart, funny, and everything else a warm-blooded guy looked for in a mate. She had countless opportunities to date other guys, guys with more money, better looks, more to offer her. But of them all, she chose him, Lloyd William Harris. Forty-two years together, she was his first love, he was hers. "What you looking at, sour pus?" she said. "A beautiful lady." he replied. Mary looked around "Where?" but before he could answer the doorbell ring, the first trick-or-treater of the night was standing there, waiting for their treats. Mary took the bowl of apples to the door and tried handing them out but the trick or treater's either refused to take one or just threw 'em down. "Get outta here you damn kids!" Lloyd shouted at them, rage ripped through his body, blood pressure raised but he didn't care. "Leave 'em alone Lloyd. They're just kids. We were the same way when we were younger. At least I was.." she said, looking at an old picture of them at the Gwinnett Fair. The night passed and not one of the apples had been given out. The word spread that the house was serving apples and there were no knocks on the door, only the sound of eggs smashing on the house, toilet paper thrown into the dry trees, and laughter. The next morning, Lloyd woke up smelling the sweet scent of his wife's baked apple pie. He showered, dressed and whistled his way to the kitchen where Mary was cutting a fresh piece and laying it on a plate for him. "Mornin' sleepy," she greeted him. "Feelin' better?" Before Lloyd answered, he stuffed his mouth with apple pie. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of the delicious pie. Nobody made better pie than her. Sometimes he didn't even bother with chewing, he just tasted and swallowed. Lloyd saw an empty bowl and his smile faded. His special apples were in there lastnight. It was nearly full before he went to bed lastnight and now it was empty. Not a tainted apple left. "Which apples did you---" Razors sliced through his throat before he could finish the sentence. His face landed on the plate; blood poured out of his neck and mouth; the blood spilled over the edges of the plate and onto the table drowning small chunks of apple and crust. "You're so messy," Mary said, wiping up the mess with a towel. "Didn't I tell you to leave those kids alone?"
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