Milk and Cookies

Ah, the innocence of youth.  I remember when I was just a carefree child.  I honestly can say I will never forget it.

I remember being around six years old and playing with my friend, Billy Marsh, who was eight—the coolest, oldest kid in our neighborhood.  It was December, and almost Christmas.  Billy was telling me about Santa Claus.

To put some context on this, there had been a rash of home invasions in the area, and my parents had been telling me to watch out for prowlers.

Billy, being the wiser of the kids around, knew how gullible we younger kids could be.  He told me that Santa was the ones breaking into houses and that he was trying to get take away kids to go be helpers at his workshop at the North Pole.

Now, that would have sounded like a pretty sweet gig to me, had it not been for the fact that Billy told me I would never get to see my mommy or daddy ever again.  All the toys in the world weren’t worth missing my mother’s kisses or the cool stuff my father would sometimes bring home from his late-night job as a worker at a chocolate factory.

It was the afternoon before Christmas when I thought of my plan to make sure Santa didn’t kidnap me.  Mom let me bake some cookies for Santa, and I added my own special ingredient.  Father set out these green pellets for the mice that came into our garage.  He told me the mice were being bad, and that the pellets would make them leave us alone.  My six year old brain took this notion and ran with it.

I’ll never forget the look on my father’s face when he found me crying about how I told mommy those cookies were for Santa, but she ate them anyway.

All About Allie

“But mom!” Sammie whined as her mother nudged her away from the bathroom door.  “She’s been in there for over an hour!  It’s always about Allie!  Her birthday parties, Christmas, even last month on vacation!  It’s never all about me!  Me!”

Sammie’s mother just shook her head, ignoring her youngest daughter’s overly selfish remarks.  “Honey, your sister has a big date tonight, so of course it’s all about her.  How about we have games night here, just you, me, and your dad?  You can even pick.”

Sammie pouted her way to her room and closed the door with a muffled thud.  She twisted the lock violently, for an audible metallic click in order to signify her indignation.  Sammie grinned once in solitude.  She had been waiting for her mother to confront her so she could storm off in atypical fashion.  Now, she knew, her mother would leave her alone for the night.  This, of course, was part of her moderately thought out plan.

Now alone, Sammie quickly changed into her nicest dress and casually slipped out the window.  The man Allie was meeting hadn’t met her in person—only online had they chatted—so she figured she could pass herself off as Allie, as she was only three years younger than her sister of 21.

Since her sister, being the blowhard Sammie mentally made her out to be, just could not get enough of telling her parents where she was going, and when, Sammie knew right were to go, and even managed to add something to Allie’s makeup to stall her: cocoa power.  Since Allie was mildly allergic to it, Sammie figured that the hives her sister was about to get would mimic acne enough that the self-centered freak-out would buy her the time needed to arrive at the date location.

Sammie’s plan, much to her delight, worked as far as she could tell.  She arrived at the parking lot of the local mall right at 9 PM.  She was confused, though, as the only car in the lot of the since-closed mall had a man leaning against it, one who was much older than Allie had claimed she was meeting.  The faint embers of his cigarette barely illuminated his tanned face.

She approached him, and called out, “Ex…excuse me, sir?  I’m looking for Michael and was wondering if you’ve seen someone who was waiting for a lady named Allie.”

“Then tonight’s my lucky night.  I’m Michael,” said the man.  He took a long drag and flicked the cigarette to the ground, its embers danced as if they were trying to escape their fate.

Just then, another man came from behind the car.  He snapped a length of rope taunt and grinned, his paler skin better visible in the night.

“Wait, I think I should tell you,” she whimpered, taking steps backward as the two men moved to overtake her.  “I’m not Allie.  My name is Sammie!  I’m just her sister!”

The tanned man grabbed her by the throat and quickly and firmly placed his large hands across her mouth.  They were scarred with what appeared to be dozens of bite marks.

 “Allie, Sammie, it don’t matter none.  All that matters is tonight, it’s gonna’ be all about you, sweetheart.”