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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: 1 Bikini Brigade part 1 of 22 (NND) dec13
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BIKINI BRIGADE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
“The child’s safety is paramount!” the woman declared to
Katie’s mother. She was standing at the front door. She looked to be
in her mid-30’s. She wore a no-nonsense hair style. Her dress might
have doubled for a grocery sack, if it didn’t have a Mondrian pattern
upon it. Unlike Mondrian’s primary colors, the dress was patterned with
lines of light blue, dark blue, and grey.
The large maples in the front yard cast dappled shadows over a
large van sitting in front of Katie’s house. “Community Services,” the
van had printed upon it, in large letters. If it was dark, the letters
would have glowed brightly when hit by headlights, but it was morning.
A police logo was imprinted on the side of the van, underneath
“Community Services.”
“But I don’t *want* to go to Child Protective Services!” Katie
insisted. She was sitting in the living room. Her mother was at the
front door. MTV was blaring out from a television in the living room.
Katie had turned it up, to try to drown out the argument between her
mother and the woman from Child Protective Services.
“All she said was that a man gave her a hickey. While I was at
the PTA meeting,” Katie’s mother told the woman from Child Protective
Services, whose name was Matilda Brunswald. Ms. Matilda Brunswald, as
she would be quick to remind you, if you forgot the feminist honorific.
“Number one,” Ms. Matilda Brunswald said, raising a finger on
her pudgy hand. “Number one, if a grown man has been giving your
daughter hickeys, *that* child is unsafe! And number two, Ms.
Pepperdine--”
“Mrs. is fine,” Katie’s mother answered. “I may have divorced
my husband, but I haven’t dropped his last name.”
“You shouldn’t have taken his last name in the first place!”
Ms. Matilda Brunswald declared. “Number two, Ms. Pepperdine, there is
no evidence that you’ve ever attended a PTA meeting. In fact, there’s a
rumor, which I certainly hope is scurrilous, that you’ve been seen with
various boyfriends at a local motel!”
“Oh, is that what this is about?” Katie’s mother laughed.
“Someone who’s never gotten any, jealous of my supposed love life?”
Katie’s mother asked.
“No, that is not what this is about!” Matlida Brunswald said
hotly. “Adultery isn’t punishable under state law, at the moment.”
“Now you’re saying I’m--” Katie’s mother began.
“What I’m saying,” Matilda Brunswald said.
“Excuse me. Mind if I get by?” I asked. I’d come up behind
Ms. Matilda Brunswald, having just parked my brand new Jeep 4 x 4 out
front, behind the “Community Services” van.
I pinched myself. I didn’t own a brand new Jeep 4 x 4, did I?
I was 13. You had to be at least 16 to drive, by yourself. I turned
around. No, there was no doubt about it. It was there, all right.
Shiny with coats of wax, a factory paint job, and colored fire engine
red, my favorite color, the color of lipstick. Still, I was only 13.
How could I be driving it? And how did I know the name of the Child
Protective Services worker? I’d never seen her before.
I pinched myself again. This was a dream, right? But I didn’t
awaken. Instead, Ms. Matilda Brunswald stepped aside, and eyed me
closely as I passed.
I slipped past Katie’s mom and found Katie sitting on a couch
in her living room. She had her feet on the couch and her knees drawn
up to her chin. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her legs.
MTV was announcing a contest whose prize was a visit from Ozzy Osbourne.
“Who’s that?” I asked Katie. Yet I knew, already, didn’t I?
“That’s the Child Protective Services lady,” Katie said
glumly. “She’s pissed ‘cause Nick gave me a kiss and I went to school
with it, and everyone saw it on my neck.”
I sat down beside Katie. “Nick gave you more than I kiss,” I
said.
“She doesn’t know that,” Katie answered.
“Well, don’t tell her,” I said.
“I didn’t tell anyone anything!” Katie said. She looked
exasperated. She was obviously not too happy about the woman at the
front door.
“PRT!” the woman at the front door hollared to Katie’s mom.
“I’ll get a court order to remove your daughter from this *dangerous*
environment, where she’s permitted to see strange men, and you’ll be
subject to a Parental Rights Termination hearing,” the woman told
Katie’s mom. “Better hire a lawyer.”
“Good God! I don’t want to have to go to the expense of hiring
a lawyer,” Katie’s mom replied. “All because my daughter had a
hickey--”
“From a man!” the Child Protective Services woman yelled.
Katie leaned over to me. She whispered in my ear.
“You’re going to run away?” I asked her.
“What else can I do?” Katie said.
“But where will you go?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Katie said. She thought a moment. “I know!
To the beach!” she said.
“Want to go in my Jeep?” I asked.
“Yes!” Katie declared. She jumped up from the couch. “I’ll
get my new bikini, and my sand toys, and we’ll drive all the way to the
beach, where they’ll never find me!”
“Alright,” I replied. “But bring a sweater. It’s cold this
morning.”
“Okay,” Katie said. “But we’re going to go to a warm beach,
okay? To a beach in Florida, or California. Let’s go to the beach in
Hollywood! Then we can meet Arnold Schwarzenegger while we’re having
fun at the beach.”
“I don’t know,” I told her, but she turned, and went running
for the stairs to her room. “How far is it to California?” I asked her.
“Not that far,” Katie assured me. “I was just watching a
California Beach Party on MTV, so it can’t be that far away.”
“How will we get there?” I asked. I dashed up the stairs after
her. “We’ll need a map.”
“I have a map!” Katie said. “It’s of the whole United States
of America. Its really big and it has lots of roads in it.”
“Well, find California on the map then,” I told her. “And tell
me where to turn, so I don’t get lost trying to get us there.”
“Did you bring your bikini?” Katie asked me. We ran into her
room. She got out her school backpack and began jamming stuff into it.
A deflated beach ball, a snorkel. A swim fin.
“I lost the other one,” Katie told me, sticking the swim fin
into her back pack.
“No, I didn’t bring my bikini,” I told her. “Like I said, it’s
cold outside.”
“Here, you can wear one of mine,” Katie said. She pulled open
a dresser drawer. She handed me a small pile of cloth swatches and
string.
“I’m bigger than you. Your bikini will be kinda small for me,”
I told her.
“It doesn’t matter. Nobody will notice in Hollywood,” Katie
told me. “Except hunky surfer dudes. Just pass them along to me if you
don’t like them.”
“You’re boy crazy,” I told her.
“See? My new bikini. It’s hot pink,” Katie said. The one
she’d handed me was red. It was my favorite color, I thought. And it
did match the color of my jeep. I might look pretty cool, wearing it.
“Don’t just bring toys,” I told her. “Pack some makeup too.”
“You’re always worrying about your looks,” Katie said. “Here,
stick the makeup stuff in your purse. I don’t want it taking up room in
my knapsack.”
“What’s that?” I asked her. I pointed at a starfish. It was
hollow inside. It looked like a mold, that you could make big cookies
with.
“You put sand in it and you can make starfish,” Katie said.
“It’s pretty fun.” She put it in her knapsack. Then she zipped her
knapsack shut, as far as she could. The finned end of the swim fin was
too big to fit in the knapsack, and stuck out the back of it. Katie
shouldered her knapsack. She picked up a pail with a spade. The pail
and spade were made of plastic. Cartoon sea horses danced along the
outside of the pail. “Okay, I got my sand bucket, my swim fin... oops!”
Katie said.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her.
“Forgot my frisbee!” Katie said. She darted to her closet and
returned with a Bugs Bunny frisbee. “It has a crack in it but it still
flies pretty good,” Katie assured me. “Let’s go!”
“We’ll have to go out the back,” I told her.
“Yeah. And I’ll have to sneak around past that lady to get in
your jeep. She won’t see me, if I go behind the hedge,” Katie said.
“Let’s hope so,” I replied. I crossed my fingers.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, we grabbed a big pile of Lunchables
out of the fridge. We loaded them into two grocery bags, along with
soda, fruit juice, and two bags of potato chips. (Barbecue for me,
plain for Katie.) We got a beach towel out of the hall linen closet.
We went to the downstairs bathroom and got a bottle of suntan lotion.
“Alright, I guess we’ve got as much stuff as we can carry,” I
told Katie.
“Do you think we’ll need any peanut butter?” Katie asked me.
“Better get some, if you want it,” I told her.
“Yes. Otherwise I might wind up having to eat chunky peanut
butter. We have a whole new jar of creamy peanut butter up in the
cabinet here. That’s my favorite.”
“How about these cards?” I asked her, spying a pack of Bicycle
playing cards by the telephone in the kitchen.
“Okay,” Katie said.
“Here’s some other games, down next to the wastebasket,” I told
her. “Candyland. You want to bring that?”
“NO!” Katie said. “We’re throwing that out. It’s a boring
game. I’m too big for it, now.”
“Your mom might get pregnant again,” I told her.
“Nah,” Katie said. “I’m the one and only.”
“You want to give these games to the Salvation Army?” I asked
her. “Candyland, Chutes and Ladders...”
“No time!” Katie said. “Anyways my mom’s too lazy to go find
out where the Salvation Army lives. Come on, let’s go. Otherwise that
Child Protective Services lady will take me!”
“Alright,” I said. Leaving the games behind, I picked up the
Bicycle playing cards.
“Want some cigarettes?” Katie asked me, opening a drawer near
the phone. There was a pack of Virginia Slims cigarettes in the drawer.
“No. Cigarettes are bad for your health,” I told her.
“Besides we’ve got half the stuff in your house already. Let’s just
go.”
“Lemme take just one,” Katie said. She pulled a cigarette out
of the pack. She put it in her mouth. Her hands were too full to carry
it, what with a sand bucket in one hand, a frisbee in the other, and a
bag of soda and Lunchables poised in the arm that held the frisbee.
“I’ve cum a long way, baby,” she told me.
“We’re going a long way, I’m afraid,” I told her.
“Oh yeah. I forgot the map,” Katie said. She went, as best
she could, dashing back up the stairs to her room.
We stopped at 7/11 for yet more stuff. I wanted to look at the
magazines, and see if the new Seventeen was out yet. Katie said we
needed more snack food.
“It could be fifty or sixty miles to California,” she told me.
“We don’t want to run out of Doritos.”
“Okay,” I said, looking at the magazines. “But I only have two
dollars. Don’t buy too many bags of them.”
“Two for me and one for you,” she said.
“What? Why do you get two?” I asked her.
“Because I’m in charge of the map,” Katie replied.
“So?” I asked.
“So, the map is hard work. Driving is fun,” Katie said.
“Hmmm. Whatever. I’m not that crazy about Doritos,” I told
her. “I like barbecue potato chips better.”
“Jay Leno eats Dortios,” Katie told me. “But don’t worry.
I’ll eat your bag for you if you decide you don’t want them.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I couldn’t find Seventeen, so we got in line without it.
Standing there, waiting to pay for our food, Katie pointed to a fat,
slightly disreputable man standing in front of us.
“I’ll have a Playboy and a Penthouse and a Hustler,” he told
the clerk behind the counter.
“I know who that guy is,” Katie said to me, quite seriously,
pointing to him but trying not to be seen pointing.
“Who?” I asked. Can you imagine? I thought to myself. It’s
bad enough he asks the clerk for Playboy. But Penthouse and Hustler
too?
“He was on T.V. last week,” Katie told me. “On America’s Most
Wanted.”
“Really?” I asked. “He’s a pervert too. Look at all those
X-Rated magazines he’s buying.”
“And he needs to wash his hair too,” Katie told me. “I’m going
to call the Police and report him.”
“Are you sure?” I asked her. “What if it isn’t him?”
“Doggie DoGood told us in school to report any suspicious
people,” Katie told me. “I’ll call the Police and he’ll get in lots of
trouble. Serves him right for buying all those X-Rated magazines!”
I looked at her. “You don’t really think you saw him on T.V.
last week, do you?
“So?” Katie told me. “Let’s get him in trouble anyway.”
“It’s not nice to get people in trouble who didn’t do
anything,” I told her.
“He’s buying X-Rated magazines!” Katie said to me. “He’s
obviously a pervert. All perverts need to be put in prison. That’s
what Doggie DoGood says!”
“But if--” I began. The man in front of us asked for a bag for
his magazines. “If we get someone in trouble who didn’t *actually* do
anything,” I told her. “We might get ourselves into trouble. You know
the old saying, ‘What goes around, comes around.’”
“We’re just girls,” Katie said. “We can call the Police
anonymously. The hot line. That would be fun, calling the hot line.
You pay for our stuff and I’ll copy down that man’s license plate. Then
we can get him in trouble for buying X-Rated magazines.”
“I don’t know,” I said. But Katie dumped her junk food in my
arms, and went to the store window. She watched the man leave the
store. She watched him get in his car. When he’d left, she came back
to the counter, where I was paying for our food.
“Can I borrow a pen?” Katie asked the clerk.
“Sure,” the clerk said. “Just grab one of those out of that
jar there.”
“Thanks,” Katie said.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“I’m writing down something important,” Katie told me. She
winked at me.
Outside, snacking on Doritos, Katie called the Police. She
told the hot line that a man had been following little girls, and that
she’d copied down his license plate. The hot line thanked her for her
call.
“There, all done,” Katie beamed, hanging up the phone.
“I just hope we don’t get into trouble,” I told her.
“We’re *girls*,” Katie assured me. “We can’t get in trouble.”
“What about the Child Protective Services lady?” I asked her.
“Oh, yeah,” Katie said. “Well, except for her, that is. Come
on, let’s go to Hollywood and meet Arnold Schwarzenegger!”
“I just hope nothing bad happens to us,” I told her.
“Nothing ever will!” Katie shouted. She skipped ahead of me,
toward my new jeep, happily munching on a bag of Doritos.
Noon came, and then afternoon. We were still driving. I
wasn’t sure how far California was from New York, but I began to suspect
that it was farther than Katie, in charge of the map, had let on. I
asked to look at the map but she assured me she knew how far it was.
“Anyway, it’s my map,” Katie added. I scowled, but kept
driving. It was my jeep, at least, even if the map did belong to her.
I followed the setting sun, as it sank over a distant range of
mountains.
Night approached. I found myself in a deep forest, climbing
uphill, with Katie still refusing to let me look at the map. Large
trees closed in around us. Their shadows deepened. At last we were
engulfed in total darkness, with only the jeep’s headlights giving us
light. I could see no moon. The trees gathered thickly around us,
blocking out the sky.
“Where are we?” Katie asked me.
“How should I know?” I replied. “You’re in charge of the map.”
“I think we’re lost,” Katie said.
“Oh, great!” I answered. I smelled a scent of cider on the
air. “Maybe we’re in Washington State,” I told her. “I smell apples.”
“Me too!” Katie said. “I like apples.”
I noticed there was a crunching of gravel under the tires of my
jeep.
“Say, when did we leave the road?” I asked Katie.
“We’re on a road!” Katie answered.
“A gravel road,” I told her. “When did we leave the main
road?”
“I dunno,” Katie said. “Just keep driving. We’ll hook up with
a main road in a minute or two.”
“How do you know that?” I asked her.
“My dad used to take me fishing, before my mom and him got
divorced,” Katie said. She gazed around, in the complete darkness
surrounding us. “Yep. This place sorta reminds me of where we went
fishing. Just keep going. I think I know where we are.”
“Okay,” I said. Turning around wasn’t an option, anyway.
There were big ditches on either side of the road, I saw now. I’d have
risked putting my new jeep in a ditch if I tried to turn it around. And
backing up would have been difficult, for I wasn’t yet the greatest
driver when it came to going backwards, especially on a road lined with
ditches.
On we went, deeper into the forest. It grew late. Katie asked
me to stop.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she whispered.
“We should wait until we get to a gas station,” I told her.
“There’s no gas station around here,” Katie told me. “And no
people either. I’ll just slip out and go in the dark.”
“Okay,” I said. I had to go too. I stopped the jeep. There
wasn’t any shoulder to pull over on, so I just parked it in the road. I
left the engine running, and the lights on. The jeep’s headlights were
our only source of light.
Katie and I peed on the edge of the ditch, crouched by the side
of the road. Walking back to our jeep, she kicked at some of the gravel
in the road.
“It smells sweet,” Katie said, kicking up the rocks. She
stopped. She gazed down at her feet in the darkness. “These rocks look
purple,” Katie told me. She picked up a handful. She tried to examine
them. “And they smell delicious. She put one up to her nose. Then,
tentatively, she extended her tongue. “Yum!” Katie said. She popped a
rock in her mouth. She began to chew.
“You’re eating rocks!” I told her.
“This isn’t any ordinary rock... none of them are,” Katie
said. She had a handful of them and she lifted the whole handful up to
her nose. “These are Wild Berry Pop Rocks!” Katie told me. “Yummy!”
She dumped the entire handful into her mouth.
“You’re kidding,” I said. But there was no denying that Katie
was eating rocks. Rocks straight from the road. I bent down, and
scooped up a handful, though not as big a handful as she had. I was
worried about breaking my nails. I sniffed the rocks. “They do sort of
smell like...” I began. I licked at the rocks in my hands. “They are
Pop Rocks!” I exclaimed. “How on earth did we wind up on a gravel road
made of Pop Rocks?”
“I have no idea,” Katie said happily.
Some time later, we sat in my jeep, quite full of Pop Rocks.
Katie blew a bubble.
“You should have given your Candyland game to the Salvation
Army,” I told her. “And you shouldn’t have called the Police hot line
just because you saw some guy buying X-Rated magazines at the 7/11.”
“I have more bad news for you,” Katie told me. She pulled a
package out of a pocket in her jeans. “See this bag of Gummi Bears?”
she asked me.
“Yes,” I said.
“I stole’d it,” Katie told me.
“What? You stole it? From the 7/11?” I asked her.
“Yep,” Katie said.
“That’s three bad things you’ve done today,” I told her.
“That’s like... like three strikes and you’re out!”
“I know,” Katie said. She gazed out past the front of my
jeep. The headlights of my jeep blazed into the gloom of the forest,
their beams quickly lost amongst the thicket of trees that hemmed in the
road. “What goes up comes down,” she said.
“What goes around, comes around,” I told her.
“I’m full of Pop Rocks,” she confessed to me.
“So am I,” I answered.
“Well, drive on,” Katie said. “Maybe some rich guy lined the
road with Pop Rocks, for some strange reason. Maybe he could help us
get unlost, if we find him.”
“Okay,” I said. I started the jeep’s engine. I looked at
her. “I just hope he isn’t as bad as you are. Otherwise, we’re really
in trouble!”
“Yeah. He might steal me, like I stole the Gummi Bears,” Katie
agreed.
The trees grew denser. The road continued to crunch underneath
my tires. When I stopped, and got out again, I found we were still
driving on Wild Berry Pop Rocks.
Katie gazed up at the overhanging branches of the trees.
“Bambi?” she said to me, in a quiet voice.
“Yes?” I asked, standing on a road made of Pop Rocks, examining
a handful of them.
“You’re not gonna b’lieve this,” Katie said, quite seriously.
“What? Did you steal something else?” I asked her.
“Nope,” Katie said. “But there are candy apples hanging from
the branches of the trees.”
“You’re kidding!” I said. I looked up. Normally I might have
been happy. After all, I loved candy apples. But this was getting way
too weird. It was hard to imagine an entire road made of Pop Rocks.
Now the trees around us were growing candy apples?
We ate our fill of candy apples.
“This isn’t a bad place,” Katie said.
“I just wish I knew where we were,” I replied.
“I’m sleepy,” Katie said.
“Me too,” I answered.
“I think I have a tummy ache,” Katie said.
“Me too,” I answered.
We threw up in the ditch by the side of the road.
I sensed light. My eyes popped open. It was morning.
Sunlight shafted down through the dense trees. There was a maple leaf
in my lap. It was gold. I gazed at it, thinking, ‘Well of course.
It’s autumn.’ Then, looking closer, I realized the leaf was made of
gold foil. I picked it up, out of my lap. I peeled back the gold
foil. Inside, there was a very thin layer of chocolate!
I pinched myself. Hard. Nothing happened. So I unwrapped the
leaf and popped it in my mouth. It was delicious. Looking up, I saw we
were parked under a canopy of gold leaves. From the branches of the
trees hung red candy apples. I leaned over the side of my jeep. The
road was still made of Wild Berry Pop Rocks, just like the night before.
Gazing around me, I saw a sign. It was a sign that looked
wooden but, when I peered at it more deliberately, I saw that it wasn’t
made of wood, but of peanut brittle. Printed on the sign, in
quaint-looking letters, that looked for all the world to be made of
black licorice, was the word, “Candyland”. Beneath it, in smaller
letters, were the words, “Citadel 307ks”
I grabbed Katie’s arm. Sleepily, she opened her eyes. There
was a stick in her hands, the candy apple eaten off it the night
before. Her palms and the front of her shirt were purple, from eating
Wild Berry Pop Rocks.
“Katie!” I cried. “We’re in fucking Candyland!”
“huh?” Katie asked. She had pop rock gum in her mouth. She
began chewing it.
“Katie,” I said. “Look! Look at that sign. We’re not just on
some road some rich guy covered with pop rocks. We’re actually in
Candyland!”
Katie raised herself up in her seat, quickly. She gazed past
me, at the sign I was pointing to. “It says, it says ‘Candyland’!”
Katie said.
“We’re in Candyland, Katie!” I told her.
“I can’t b’lieve it,” Katie said. Her eyes were wide. We
stared at the sign, together.
Katie pinched herself. Then she pinched me.
“OW!” I cried. I pinched her back.
“OW!” Katie said. Then, she added, “The sign still says
Candyland.”
“We’re going to have some major explaining to do when we get
home to your mother,” I told her.
“Yeah. And we might have to see the dentist too,” Katie said.
When we got over our shock at being in Candyland, I tried
starting my jeep.
“Damn!” I said. “I can’t believe it.”
“What’s the matter?” Katie asked. She was standing on the
seat, picking another candy apple off the overhanging branches.
“I fell asleep with the headlights on, and now my battery’s
dead,” I told her.
“Well, we could be lost in a worse place,” Katie said. She bit
into the candy apple she’d picked. “Yum! These sure are good!”
“Don’t eat so many that you throw up,” I warned her.
“Oh, yeah,” Katie said. She munched more slowly.
I tried starting my jeep again.
“This is ridiculous,” I confessed, when I found, after many
tries, that I absolutely could not get my jeep to start.
“Well at least we’re lost in a yummy place,” Katie told me.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Let’s just get out and follow the road on foot,” Katie said.
“Maybe we’re pretty close to Hollywood. We drove a lot yesterday.”
“Okay,” I agreed, though I had my doubts about the proximity of
Hollywood to our location. One thing was for sure, though. There was a
forest full of candy apples surrounding us. As long as we liked apples,
and pop rocks, and chocolate leaves, we’d have plenty of food to subsist
on. Not to mention the sign. Katie got out of the jeep and went over
to it and took a bite out of it.
“Yum,” Katie said. “Leave the peanut butter in the jeep. I
can just take along part of this sign.”
“Katie! You shouldn’t break it!” I told her. But it was too
late. She broke off a big chunk of the sign. She began eating it.
A low growl came from within the trees.
“What’s that?” Katie asked me. She stopped chewing. There was
peanut brittle smeared over her cheeks. She gazed at me with large,
wondering eyes.
“It sounds like a bear,” I confessed.
Suddenly, a crashing of underbrush was heard, accompanied by
another growl.
“YEEEEK!” Katie cried. A huge, furry, purple figure emerged
from the trees right behind her.
“Who’s damaging my forest?!” the bear-like figure cried. I
jumped from my jeep and ran to the ditch along the side of the road.
Katie ran to the ditch and jumped in with me.
The bear stopped. It sniffed at the sweet-smelling air. It
dropped to all fours, no longer standing upright. It gazed about, but
appeared to be near-sighted, or something, for it did not see Katie or
follow her dashing figure over to the ditch.
“Who’s damaging my forest?” the figure asked again, as if of
the trees themselves.
“What’s that?” I asked Katie.
“I dunno,” Katie answered.
“Who’s that talking?!” the bear inquired. It sniffed the air.
“It’s big, and purple...” I said as quietly as I could to
Katie.
“I know,” Katie whispered.
“Purple?” the bear asked. “Purple? Of course I’m purple! I’m
a berry bear! Who are you?”
Katie found her courage and said, “I’m Katie. An’ I’m in
Candyland. Is that your sign?”
The bear emitted a low growl. “Of course it’s my sign,” the
bear said. “I’m the keeper of the forest. I have to fix the signs if
people eat them. What if somebody else needs directions, after you’ve
passed through? What will they do? Will I just have to tell them,
‘Sorry, but somebody ate the sign?’”
“No. Tell them Katie Pepperdine ate the sign,” Katie said.
“That won’t do them much good, if they need to know how far it
is to the Citadel. Especially if I’m not around,” the bear answered.
“Of course, I try to be around here if I can, since this is the forest’s
edge, or near enough, you know, so that if anyone comes by, it’s here
they’ll land first.”
I raised my head from the ditch. I let the bear see me.
Though he didn’t appear to see too well, mostly relying on his hearing.
“Is the exit back there?” I asked him. “Can we walk back, and
get out of this place?”
“Hmmm,” the bear growled. “You sound human. Are you human?”
“Yes! We’re humans. We’re girls!” Katie said eagerly.
“We don’t belong in Candyland,” I told the bear.
“Even if it is a yummy place,” Katie said.
The bear stood on all fours, in the road. He sniffed at the
pop rocks.
“If you’re human,” the bear said at last, “that’s both good and
bad. Good, because you can save Candyland. But bad, because you’re not
supposed to be here.” He paused. He sniffed again at the pop rocks
lining the roadbed. “Did you--” he paused. “Not to impugn your
integrity. But did you, by any chance, steal a bag of Gummi Bears?”
“Yes,” Katie admitted. “From the 7/11.” She pulled the bag of
them from a pocket in her jeans. They looked slightly squashed. She’d
opened the bag, and eaten some of them. “You can have the rest back,”
Katie told the bear. “I only ate about half of them.”
The bear only sniffed the air in reply. At last he asked, “Did
you, by any chance, fail to do something good, and perhaps do something
bad, *as well* as steal a bag of Gummi Bears?”
“Well,” Katie said, considering. “I could have given my
Candyland game to the Salvation Army, but instead I threw it in the
trash. And I told the hot line that a guy buying X-Rated magazines at
the 7/11 was a child molester!”
“That’ll do it,” the bear said. “No wonder you’re here.
You’ve passed through the veil of mists, and there’s no getting back to
where you came from, except through the Peppermint Portal. That’s in
the Citadel. The Citadel of Sweets.”
“Oh,” I said. I gazed at the half-eaten sign. It said, “Cit,”
and under that, “30”. The rest had been broken off by Katie. But I
remembered the distance. “307ks to the Citadel,” I said to the berry
bear. “Is that the Citadel of Sweets?”
“Yes indeed,” the bear said.
“So how far... how far is 307ks?” I asked.
The bear pawed at the pop rocks in the road. “Well,” he said,
at last. “307ks means 307 kisses. Like Hershey’s Kisses. Lined up end
to end, you know. Except ks is a muliple, actually. A multiple of...
something,” he said. “3, or 10, or perhaps 22.”
“Twenty-two?” Katie asked. “307 times 22 equals a lot!”
“I know,” the bear said. “More than I can figure, anyway. But
it is some distance, that’s for sure.” He looked at my jeep. “Can you
drive?”
“I can drive, but the battery’s dead,” I told the bear.
“You’ll have to walk then,” the bear said.
“How’re we gonna carry all our stuff?” Katie asked.
“You can’t,” the bear said. “But don’t worry. While you’re in
Candyland, you’ll be a little different from when you were back where
you came from. For one thing, you won’t need to eat food. Just candy.
And when you, um, sorry to be indecent... but when you piss, you’ll be
pissing lemonade. And your, um, your turds... well, they’ll be made of
chocolate.”
“Yummie!” Katie exclaimed. “That makes me want to go to the
bathroom right now! I’m thirsty for some lemonade!”
“No! No!” the bear cautioned. “Don’t actually drink your
pee. It’s not good for you. After all, it came out of you, so you
don’t want to be putting it back into you. Don’t eat... sorry to have
to say this, girls. But don’t eat your turds, okay?”
“Yuck!” Katie admitted.
“Right,” the bear agreed. “Yuck’s the word. Don’t drink your
piss or eat your poop. Otherwise, you should do okay. After all, this
is Candyland. As long as you like candy, there’ll be plenty to eat.”
The bear helped us get our things out of the jeep. We couldn’t
carry everything. We gave him what we couldn’t carry.
“Can you come with us?” Katie asked him, when we’d loaded
ourselves down with as much as we could carry.
“No, as the forest keeper, I’ve got to stay where I am,” the
bear said. “Other lost children who still believe in Candyland might
show up here. It’s possible, though it happens only infrequently. But
it’s my duty as keeper of the forest to help anyone who does show up.”
He grinned. “A duty bestowed on me personally, by the Sultan,” he
added.
“Where is this Sultan?” I asked.
The bear frowned. “That, I’m afraid, is a very sad story. The
Licorice Lad, who lives in Licorice Loch... well, he used to live
there... the Licorice Lad has imprisoned the Sultan in his own dungeon,
and set himself up as Sultan instead. Not that he’s doing a very good
job,” the bear added. “For one thing, you’re here. That shouldn’t
happen, ordinarily, even if you weren’t the two goodest girls back where
you came from. But now, with Licorice Lad in charge, well, most
anything could happen, I suppose. I do hope Candyland isn’t invaded by
a whole host of you humans. Mostly we get visited by little girls and
boys, and then only rarely, in their dreams. But two teenage girls?”
the bear paused. He sniffed at us. We stood before him, clad in our
jeans, me in my Fuck Decency t-shirt and Katie in her Ozzy Osbourne
shirt that she’d gotten from MTV for entering the “Be Obscene with Ozzy”
contest. “Hmmm.” the bear said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Why?” Katie asked.
“Well, there’s various ways one can enter Candyland,” the bear
said. “I’d have to consult the Sultan’s Book of State to know them
all. But being a little kid, and dreaming of us, is one way. Or
stealing Gummi Bears, and doing something bad, and failing to do
something good, is another way. And then...” the bear paused. “There
is another way. And it would take someone like the Licorice Lad to do
it, too.”
“What?” I asked.
“Hmmm,” the bear pawed at the pop rock road. “By doing
something bad, and failing to do something good, and stealing Gummi
Bears, you made yourselves eligible for coming to Candyland. Now,
ordinarily, the Sultan wouldn’t have someone in, just for that. But, by
being eligible, you fell prey to the Licorice Lad, since he’s in charge
now. And, well, I’m afraid... Well, girls. I think he may have
kidnapped you. And not to play Candyland with you, either. After all,
you’re both teenage girls. He may have something up his sleeve that
involves parts of your bodies that you normally keep clothed. He’s a
bad one, that Licorice Lad.”
“You mean, like, he may have brought us to Candyland to fuck
us?” I asked the bear.
“Exactly,” the bear said. “And he’s got hordes of Gingermen at
his disposal, since he’s now the Sultan of Candyland. Normally the
Gingermen help little girls and boys, if they need it, while they’re
visiting Candyland. But now, since Licorice Lad is Sultan, he can make
them do his bidding. He could have patrols of Gingermen out looking for
you right now. You wouldn’t want to get caught by them. Not now, for
they’d take you straight to Licorice Lad, where, like I say, he’d do
indecent things to you.”
“That sounds scary,” I said.
“Yeah,” Katie agreed.
The bear sniffed the air. “Get down!” he said suddenly, in a
low growl.
“Huh?” I asked. I dropped to my knees in the pop rock road.
“Get under your jeep,” the bear added. Quickly I crawled
underneath it. Katie scrambled in after me.
I heard a fluttering sound. I peeked out from under the jeep.
I saw two gold-colored birds moving through the branches. The bear
growled at them, very loudly. Katie let out a small, soft yelp and
pressed herself against me.
After a while, the bear told us we could come out from under my
jeep.
“What was that all about?” Katie asked.
“There were some butterscotch bats, flying in amongst the
trees,” the bear told us. “They work for Licorice Lad. If ever you
smell butterscotch, hide! It could be nothing, or it could be those
bats. They’re looking for you, I reckon, just like the gingermen are.”
“What will they do to us if they find us?” Katie asked,
wide-eyed.
“Report you to Licorice Lad, of course, or to his gingermen.
Then you’ll be found and taken to him.”
“Yikes!” I said.
“They used to hang out in the Cocoa Cave, near the Licorice
Loch, but now they’re free to roam the realm,” the bear said. He shook
his muzzled head. “I do wish I could go with you girls. But then
there’d be nobody here, if any other children should pass by. Or,
considering Licorice Lad is in charge, teenage girls. I do hope no
other teenage girls back in your world steal gummi bears, and do
something bad, and fail to do something good. I’m mostly used to
dealing just with little children. And not children in danger of being
kidnapped, either. Just children who want directions on touring
Candyland, and would like to visit the Sultan. Mostly, I can just pass
them along to the gingermen. But not now. Now everything is topsy
turvy. The gingermen are bad, the bats are loose, and you’re here.”
The bear shook his head.
“What’s your name?” Katie asked.
“Oh, yes,” the bear grinned. His teeth showed. “Boswell the
Berry Bear, that’s me. If you ever need help--” He shook his head.
“Well, not much I can do, in that department, I guess. I’ve got to stay
here. Mostly I stay here anyway, but, you know, nowadays, sometimes I
feel like the last sane creature alive in Candyland. Everyone else
seems to slowly be falling under Licorice Lad’s spell. That’s the power
of the Sultan’s throne. Sitting there, in the Citadel of Sweets,
wearing the Candy Crown, with all the different types of candy in it,
like a big turban encrusted with jewels, you have great power in
Candyland. But I’m far away, so it takes a long time for his power to
influence me. But beware of anyone else you meet. They may be sweet,
but it could be a trap. Like treacle, designed to win you over so they
can do you in. Some may still be on the Sultan’s side, as they should
be. But others may not be.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, take me, for instance,” Boswell said. “I’d like
everyone to love bears. And to eat candy apples. But the Gumdrop Guy,
who looks like several Michelin Tires stacked on top of each other, just
in case you should see him, he’d like everyone in your world to eat
gumdrops. Gumdrops and nothing but gumdrops. And Peppermint Pete, who
lives amidst the Peppermint Pines, he’d like for everyone in your world
to eat nothing but peppermint sticks. Not just at Christmas, but year
round.”
“I don’t think I could eat peppermint sticks all year,” Katie
said. “I like gummi bears too.”
“Yes! Gummi bears. Yum!” Boswell Bear agreed. “Now, usually,
we’re quite understanding of each other. We realize that humans need to
eat different types of candy. But not now. Licorice Lad has Peppermint
Pete thinking all the humans can be made to like peppermint, and nothing
but peppermint. And the same for the Gumdrop Guy. And Peanut Brittle
Polly... she’s such a sweet soul. But she may have fallen under
Licorice Lad’s spell too. He may have her thinking that in your world
everyone can be made to eat no other candy but peanut brittle.”
“I definitely don’t want to eat nothing but peanut brittle all
year,” Katie said.
“Me too,” I agreed.
“Well, being human, neither of you are under Licorice Lad’s
spell,” Boswell told us. “Not automatically, that is. He can’t just
sit in the Sultan’s throne, and put on the Sultan’s turban, and ensconse
himself there in the Citadel and send out conforming brain waves that
make you fall under his spell. Up close and personal, of course, it
might be another matter. Licorice Lad’s quite powerful, now that he’s
Sultan.
“But how do we get home?” Katie asked Boswell.
“You must free the Sultan, for he’s the only one who knows how
to operate the Peppermint Portal,” Boswell said. “It’s very powerful,
for it allows humans like yourselves to transport yourselves back to
where you came from.” He grinned. “Don’t steal any more gummi bears
when you get back there.”
“We won’t!” Katie said.
“You mean *you* won’t,” I told her. “What am I doing here?” I
asked Boswell.
“Simple,” Boswell said. “You were standing, or perhaps
sitting, next to her when Licorice Lad brought her through the veil of
mists. If you’re close enough, you’ll be pulled through the vortex
along with her. Especially if you knew of the bad thing, and knew of
the good thing that wasn’t done, and were there when your friend stole
the gummi bears.”
“I’m afraid I was,” I said glumly.
“Yes. Obviously,” Boswell said. “Well, we could talk on this
all day, I suppose. But you must be going. If you wish to get back
home, that is. And if you want to stay out of the clutches of Licorice
Lad.”
“We definitely don’t want to be with him,” Katie said. She was
holding a candy apple, and she bit into it. “He sounds like that guy
who bought those X-Rated magazines at the 7/11.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Well, Licorice Lad is about 15,” Boswell said. “A most
anti-social fellow, I must admit, except for those bats he has. Once I
saw him fooling around with some pop rocks in the road. I asked him
what he was doing, chewing all those pop rocks, and piling them up into
neat little piles. He looked like he was making figurines. Or
statues. He told me he was hoping to make Bubblegum Babes. That’s what
he said. Bubblegum Babes, that he could do wicked things to.”
“Yikes!” I said.
“I don’t want to be his Bubblegum Babe,” Katie said frankly.
“Me neither,” I said.
“Then get as quickly as you can to the Citadel,” Boswell told
us. “And be careful. For, once you’re there, it still won’t be easy.
You’ll have to find a way to free the Sultan and restore him to his
throne. Travel by day, if you can. The bats will be out mostly at
night. Only a few can fly during the day. But be careful in the
daytime too, for that’s when the gingermen will be most likely to be
searching. They used to like sleeping late, but I’ll bet Licorice Lad
has them up bright and early now. There are many pop rock paths to the
Citadel. Don’t take the most obvious one. Switch around, and go
through the trees, and over the meadows, and up thorugh the mountain
passes.”
“Do you have a map?” I asked Boswell.
“No,” Boswell said. “That was the gingermen’s job, to help
little children along their way. The Sultan had a big coach that he’d
come and pick me up in, on those rare times when I’d get to go to the
Citadel.”
“Well,” I said, looking at Katie. “Like it or not, it looks
like we’re on our own.”
Katie sniffed the air. “We could be in a worse place than
Candyland,” Katie said. “And licorice isn’t such a bad candy.”
“Beware!” Boswell said. “That’s the sort of spell Licorice Lad
can cast on your mind, now that he’s the Sultan.” Boswell sighed. “He
must be more powerful than I’d imagined. Beware of licorice, girls.
Try not to eat it. Try not even to think about it! Especially black
licorice. That’s Licorice Lad’s favorite color-- black!”
“Yick!” Katie said.
“Right,” Boswell agreed.
“Can anyone help us?” I asked. I was beginning to feel
desperate. Katie had managed to get us lost, after all, and her sudden,
if momentary, attraction to licorice seemed ominous.
“Well,” Boswell said. “There’s Lolita. She lives on Lollipop
Lane, along the shores of the Lollipop Lagoon. She’s the Sultan’s
eldest daughter. She’s powerful, but only enough to keep her own realm
free of gingermen. She doesn’t have the power to free her father, or
unseat Licorice Lad from his throne. And then there’s her younger
sister, who’s still quite little. She’s Pauline Praline. She lives in
the Isles of Ice, out on the Sea of Cream. She’d be no use to you,
though. She’s just a little first grader, still learning her numbers,
and her alphabet. No doubt she’s long since fallen under Licorice Lad’s
spell. She’d want everyone in your world to eat ice cream all their
lives.
“Mmmm,” Katie said.
“Katie!” I cried. “We’ve got to get back home. Quit thinking
about your tummy.”
“Oh, yeah,” Katie said. She popped more gummi bears in her
mouth. “Fortunately I stole a whole bag of these.”
“Tut,” Boswell said. He looked glum. “You two may be our only
hope. Good luck to you. You’d better be going. I’ll walk with you
part way, but then I’ll have to turn back. Others might be along, you
know. Anything can happen, with Licorice Lad in charge.”
“That’s a boy for you,” Katie agreed.
“Yes,” I said.
30
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