The Fix

True...seriously.

As a kid, I was always on the quest for candy. Not a normal desire like most children, but one of a junkie in his 2nd day of recovery.

I was in 2nd grade at the time and hadn't scored a "fix" in a day or so. Mom and dad were dried out and I'd shaken my sister down too many times. I needed something....anything.

I saw my best friend was home across the street. This girl bogarted all her candy. Sometimes for years. But I was in no position to be choosy. If sugar wasn't in my system by the end of the day, there's no telling what I would do. Even my parents seemed relieved when I left. It had been a rough couple days.

I made my way over to her house and pounded on the door. This was no time for niceties. Her mother opened the door.

"Hi, are you......"
"Yeah, yeah, is Chrissy here?"
"She sure is, wou...."

I was already in her room.

"Chrissy, let me have 'em"
"What?"
"That box of Peeps you have in your dresser drawer, hand 'em over. I'm dyin' here"
"But they're so old, are you...."

The stale, yellow marshmallow ball was already in my mouth.

It was already taking effect. I wasn't shaking anymore. A calm was coming over me. But this fix would have a price.

Now I prided myself on my candy eating abilities. There wasn't a taffy I couldn't chew, a jawbreaker I couldn't crush, a wax soda flavor I wouldn't try. But this Peep was going to be trouble.......yes, it was going to be a challenge. A challenge I was easily in the mood for.

It must have been in my mouth for over a minute and still was not breaking apart. Unusual for a "fresh from the Easter basket" Peep, but not so from one that had dehydrated slowly over three years in a drawer. My molars ground, my incisors dug, but still it was a hard ball.

Out of nowhere, and certainly not by my choice my throat did an involuntary swallow. No...NO....NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But it was too late.....it was stuck. Mid-throat.

I turned in fear to my friend who was staring at the yellow goo dripping from my chin.

"Are you okay?"
I shook my head.
She pounded on my back with her small , nail bitten hands.
Nothing.
I saw my life flash before me. Oh, why? Why? Why hadn't I just asked her for the orange tic-tacs her mother had given her last year? Why did I have to be so greedy?

Suddenly, I felt a harder pound on my back. The Peep flew out of my mouth and bounced onto her Holly Hobbie rug.

I looked up at her from my kneeling position. I knew what I looked like, it was obvious. She didn't say a word but looked over at the opened dresser drawer. We needed no words. I took the plastic case holding the three tic-tacs and walked home.