I constructed my lair from the choicest rock candy, not dollar store seconds. The emerald green ribbon glowed deep within the rot of my heart. Shielded from the lemony rains, I would finally be free. Free to liberate Candytown from its chocolatey oppressors. Too long have the goody-good cocoa-dolts ruled the town. There was a time when candies and taffies prospered. And that time will come again.
The bubblegum balloon idea came to me by accident. I busied myself boiling my citric acid syrup while my henchman, Butterfingers, was chewing bubble gum. Blowing bubbles kept him focused so I let him, but when the hot steam caused the latest bubble to rise, I watched with amazement.
It rose higher and higher in my lab chamber before cooling. A loud pop filled the room and lemon acid rain pelted us from above. Of course, I loved this rain. The syrup coated me and I felt empowered with one more layer. Butterfingers took his burns in stride, but his candy innards kept him strong.
To the purebred chocolate folks, hot lemon syrup represented two threats: moisture and heat. Each by themselves held perils for them. Together, it would be genocide.
I bring you death in a rain of gumdrops and lemondrops, my waxy overlords. None shall escape my wrath.
The weather was always ideal in Candytown: not too hot, not too cold, not too dry and definitely not too wet. Every day was the same. I hated their laughter, human children always choosing chocolate over candy. If only they’d chosen me. If only.
Butterfingers couldn’t be found on launch day. By myself, it was no small matter to drag my ribbon bowl full of hot syrup to the brown fondue brook and erect my gum and taffy aerial weaponry. I launched the first volley of citrus dirigibles and watched as they sailed and cooled atop the brown brick of the town hall.
They’d pay. They’d all pay.
I picked up my candyglass telescope and peered at the commotion in the town square. What were they doing? A group of chocolate bars stood naked in the square and assembled together their wrappers. Another group stacked themselves together at the four corners of the square. What were they up to?
No matter, my lemon fire would rain upon them and wreak havoc and mayhem. I salivated at the thought, tasting my candied blood.
Who is that? Is that Butterfingers?! What’s he doing in the square? I’ve been betrayed! Traitor!
I watched in defeat as the chocolate bar wrapper was lifted into place on its pillars. My legs crackled and collapsed beneath me as I lost my footing.
My last glimpse, as I fell into the flowing fondue brook, was of my wasted lemon syrup dripping uselessly off the corners of the makeshift umbrella.
What a world! What a world.
© 2016, Doug Langille. All rights reserved.
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