Sorry if this seems a little preachy. I just took what I started and ran with it. Remember, like all my stories, this one is best enjoyed with a block of aged cheddar and a vintage Pinot Noir. Nevermind.
Update: Posted a vid of yours truly reading this piece at The Broad Set's reading at the Ink Well.
I can’t recall a time in my life I’d been happier than on any given Halloween as a child. I remember fondly running from house to house amassing as much candy as I could, then returning home with the loot and devouring it at a ravenous pace (not before the haul had been looked over by my parents of course).
After the first or second night of over indulgence all that would remain were the second rate treats. Kids would then bring their sugary treasures to school in an attempt to “trade up” as it were, for better candies. Thankfully, what constituted “better candy” was purely subjective so it was easy enough to get a barter going to the benefit of all. Today this was not the case. All I had in my possession was a scant supply of generic hard candies; these were a particularly hard sell. One might be able to trade a few for a tootsie roll or a minimum of about a hundred for something along the lines of a small Hershey bar.
I remember counting my bags worth of these hard candies. Fifteen; that was all I had. To get anything decent with them would be like trying to buy a sofa set with spare change. It just wasn’t going to happen.
I was green with envy and powerless to improve my situation; until, I came across a discarded Zorro mask.
With my identity concealed, I made a whirlwind dash around the playground knocking anyone with a hefty enough bag over their shins with a stick. I then absconded into the nearby wilderness with the stolen bags of those I left writhing on the ground in pain. Having emptied all the pirated bags into my own I left them along with the mask in the hallow knot of a tree. With all the evidence against me gone I walked out of the woods whistling an innocent tune. Nobody was buying into my little charade. I was promptly disciplined, this all being in a time when corporal punishment was perfectly acceptable. In retrospect the experience was a positive one. I had learned first hand, as the teachings of Freud would later confirm, that, ''children are ruthlessly selfish and will stop at nothing to get what they want,'' and also that Zorro wasn't fooling anyone.
In my later years I read a article in the paper about a masked man holding up an older woman at gunpoint and demanding all her money. She was penniless so the crook settled on the chicken McNuggets she had just bought. I can imagine the man needed the money, but I'm certain he took the woman's lunch simply because he could.
I was reminded of my childhood experience as I read this article. I was not so foolish as to think I could get away with what I did but a mask's promise of anonymity combined with a subtle touch of circumstance was all the push I needed to commit the deplorable act. It makes me wonder about the potential for depravity in all men.
It's a shame there is no real life Zorro. The fact is, no one puts on a mask with good intentions in mind.
Very good stuff.
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