The Popcorn Colonel Read online

  “Are you going to be okay out here on your own?” said Marie.

  “Yep, and I’ll be better when you take off those glasses,” Ty-nee said. We can take care of ourselves. We even went to the Land of the Lost Pops today to make sure our pick for the movie was playing. We went right down the sidewalk to read the marquee twice to make double sure. I think it’s best not to mention that to anyone though,” Ty-nee said, as he settled into Marie’s bucket of popcorn to watch the movie from the proper side of the screen. “We are going to blend in with the new pops when they start heading to see the Mayor. He activates the beacon when the movie credits roll. That gives all the new pops plenty of time to be popped in the Big Popper.” He smiled at his own clever plan.

  William and Marie were speechless. After all, they could not see the point in arguing with talking popcorn, and besides, things were getting more confusing by the minute.

  As they passed the still-as-statues audience, William noticed the twins sitting together in the very back of the theater. One had a straw in his mouth, and a spit wad hung suspended in the air that looked like the baseball on the movie screen. It was destined for the back of the school principal’s head. The other twin had a mouth full of candy and soda dripping off his chin like an amber-colored icicle.

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” William said, rushing up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Marie followed him, urging him to come back down, but it was no use. William was down on his hands and knees tying the twins’ shoelaces together.

  He stood up and dusted off his hands trying not to snicker, since Marie was giving him a very disappointing look.

  “What? They totally deserve that,” William told her. “And this,” he said tipping the twins’ soda cups toward their laps.

  Ty-nee Cob and Willy Maize got up to see what the hold-up was. Almost instantly, they both noticed the spit wad hanging in the air and raced one another for it. They bounced off one head after the other as they made their way across the audience to the back of the theater. Willie was determined to make the catch of the day, and Ty-nee wanted to hit a grand slam. Ty-nee reached the spit wad, and upon landing, he swung his bat. He teetered on one foot on the back of the principal’s chair as he watched to see how far it went. He slumped his shoulders when he saw that it had stuck to the forehead of the twin who had shot it from the straw, but at least it was a solid hit. William thought it could not have turned out any better.

  “Yes! Way to go, Ty-nee!” William said.

  Ty-nee tapped his cleats with the bat, then rested it on his shoulder. “How ‘bout ya’ be a pal and ditch those glasses now,” Ty-nee said.

  After the great spit wad success, William owed it to Ty-nee. They took off the glasses, stowed them in their pockets, and headed toward the door to the lobby. Time was back in motion. An eruption of sound burst from the darkness as they glanced back to see the crowd cheering the grand slam homerun.

  “Dude!” said one of the twins. “You spilled your drink on me. You’re gonna get it.”

  “No, I didn’t,” said the other.

  “I’m telling dad,” said the first twin.

  “Ha! Your spit wad is stuck to your forehead. What did you use? A bendy straw?” said the second twin.

  Not knowing their shoelaces were tied together, the twins got up to go find their dad. With a thud, they fell into the aisle, and the divider wall shook.

  William grinned. “I think that was a 4.0 on the Richter scale,” he said, then took a deep sigh. “I wanted to see this movie.”

  Marie rolled her eyes. “C’mon, we need to find Mr. Z.”

  They passed Cornwell in the doorway going out to the lobby, a broom in one hand and a dust pan in the other. Heading into the dark theater, he took another look in their direction. Suspicion hung in the air like a thick fog surrounding the three of them.

  “Did you see that?” William said. “He was wearing a monocle just like the one Mr. Z. was wearing earlier.”

  Even though there were not many places Mr. Zuckerwatte could be, it was difficult to look around without being noticed. Starting with the most obvious place to find him, they headed for the projection room. The door in the lobby was one of two ways in. Another door was located at the top of the stairs behind the last row of seats in the theater. A clanking sound was coming from the room, along with two old voices bickering in hushed tones back and forth.

  “Maybe we should put the glasses on again; that would allow us to search without anyone knowing, and we wouldn’t take a chance on getting caught,” Marie said.

  William’s eyebrows furrowed into a confused arrangement; it wasn’t like Marie to say something like that.

  They silently contemplated putting the glasses back on. William raised his hand to knock on the door, pausing briefly before making contact. He felt a knot tie in his stomach, and he swallowed hard and cringed. He knew someone was there…Kettler Cornwell, the ticket taker, stood right behind them.

  Cornwell glared at them through the eyeglass. Taking the monocle from his eye, he put it in his shirt pocket. Marie started to back away, then turned and walked at a fast pace. William was right on her heels as they headed back to the safety of the theater to finish the movie. They would have to wait until later to talk to Mr. Zuckerwatte.

  William’s last glance before entering the doorway to the theater was of Kettler Cornwell entering the locked projection room. William asked Marie if she had heard the clanking sound and voices; she said that she had. Now they were worried that Mr. Zuckerwatte might be locked in the projection room. In fact, they felt sure he was locked in there. Ducking into the darkness, they slid back into their seats and put the 3D glasses back on. William wondered if Ty-Nee Cob and his pals were still watching the movie. He couldn’t see them anymore, since he wasn’t wearing Mr. Z.’s glasses, and so he tried to focus on the movie. Neither William nor Marie ate their popcorn for fear of accidentally eating a live one. The movie ended, and the credits rolled. William remembered what Ty-nee had said about the Mayor’s activating a beacon during the credits, and he wondered if that was happening now. The movie crowd funneled out of the theater and into the lobby. A hum of voices filled the air as people exchanged opinions about “Small Town Hero.” Out in the lobby, Cornwell was talking to the twins, his eyes still darting about.

  Suddenly, Cornwell pointed to William and Marie, and the twins locked eyes onto their targets. With soda-soaked sweatpants and red faces, the twins walked right into William and Marie, knocking them off balance. Regaining his footing, William frantically put his hand into his pocket and felt a pair of glasses. Relieved, he followed Marie to the box to return the 3D glasses. Then William reached into his other pocket, only to find that it was empty. He peeked into the first pocket and found only the 3D glasses; both pairs were not there. Marie dropped her 3D glasses into the box; when she looked at William, the color drained from her face. William looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  “What? What’s wrong?” She asked, concerned.

  “Cornwell must have sent the twins to steal Mr. Zuckerwatte’s glasses and unfortunately, they were successful. What were the odds that they would grab those instead of the 3D glasses?” William said pulling the 3D glasses from his pocket and whimpering as he dropped them into the box.

  Checking her pockets, Marie realized the pair she had was also gone.

  “Oh no,” she muttered. William didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he already knew. The twins had gotten her pair as well.

  “Come on, we have to try to stop them, we have to try to get the glasses back.” William jumped up in a panic trying to see over the heads of the crowd to discern in which direction the twins were headed. Pushing through the crowd, he felt a sickening in the pit of his stomach. It was hopeless. The twins were long gone by now, and even if William did catch up to the twins, how was he supposed to get Mr. Zuckerwatte’s magic glasses back?
/>   Marie grabbed William’s arm.

  “We need to find Mr. Zuckerwatte. We’ll tell him what happened; he’ll understand,” Marie said.

  Ignoring Marie, William squeezed through a group of people and ducked out of the door. He didn’t have time to wait as people circled round and round out of the theater. The street lamps glared in his eyes as he looked left and right. It was no use; there were just too many people. With his hands in his pockets and Marie at his side, he thought of how horrible this all was. He thought of the popcorn people and Mr. Zuckerwatte, and how he had let him down. William supposed he would never understand. He hung his head.

  “He’ll understand Will, this isn’t our fault. We couldn’t help it.” Marie tried to sound comforting.

  “Yeah, but Mr. Z. will be disappointed,” he said, “And I think that’s worse than if he were mad.”

  From somewhere far away, he thought he could hear a faint voice calling his name. His mind raced in different directions. Maybe this was all a dream. That had to be it. There was no way any of this could be real, and if it were, why had Mr. Zuckerwatte wanted to involve him? Come to think of it, where was he now? He definitely had some explaining to do. No doubt, Mr. Zuckerwatte didn’t think William would lose the magic glasses so soon.

  It felt like the end of the world. However, William’s mind was not finished trying to ruin his life. The knot in the pit of his stomach tightened further, and he gulped down the lump in his throat. What if the twins stomped on the glasses? Worse, what if they put them on? The damage they could do if they had the power to stop time was not something William could bear to imagine. It would all be his fault. The distant voice was still calling his name. Subconsciously, he tried to ignore it. He felt that his life was practically over.

  “William, William, hey, Will, will you snap out of it already? What is with you lately? You keep zoning out,” Marie said.

  William felt a tug on his arm. His eyes blinked and then came into focus.

  “It’s over,” he said. “I’ll never be able to face Mr. Z. again; why are you upset?” His eyes lost focus. The queasy feeling in his stomach was moving toward his knees, and he swayed.

  “Look,” Marie said. “Over in front of the bookstore.” William lifted his heavy eyelids to find that Marie’s Granny had both of the twins by their shirt collars, and they were each holding a pair of the magic glasses in hands outstretched toward William. Their faces wrinkled up into a snarling frown.

  “Now, children,” Granny said, “It’s not nice to take things that don’t belong to you.”

  Marie’s Granny had caught the twins in the nick of time. Had it been any longer, they would have disappeared into the inky darkness. Breathless and bewildered, William took both pairs of glasses and stowed them safely in the zippered pocket of his jacket. Narrowing their eyes at William, the twins skulked off into the shadows past the bookshop, trudging with heavy footsteps as they went. William was thanking Marie’s Granny for the twelfth time when she told him that would be quite enough. He looked around for Mr. Zuckerwatte one last time but did not see him anywhere. Cornwell was nowhere in sight as well. Odd, considering the night’s events had consisted of William and Marie’s being thwarted by Cornwell at every turn as they searched for Mr. Zuckerwatte; where was he now?

  On the ride home, William’s dad asked him how the movie was. He told him the movie was good but left out all the weird talking popcorn bits and the sabotage of the twins, since he was not sure at this point if it had all actually happened. He decided that it was best to keep it to himself, at least until he had figured a few things out. When they got home, William asked if he could visit Mr. Zuckerwatte. Getting three no’s in a row after pleading his case, William gave up and went upstairs. His dad was in the kitchen cooking supper, and William’s stomach growled as the scent of cheese melting in the oven drifted up the stairs. He sat on his bed for a while, thinking about what had happened today. He wasn’t sure any of it had actually happened. Was he losing his mind? The retrieved items in his pocket were definitely there; he wasn’t imagining them. Ready to put the glasses into the safety of their box (there had been too many close calls for one evening), he pulled the box out from under his bed where he had hidden it earlier.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Disappearance of

  Mr. Zuckerwatte

  William flipped the latch on the box to put the glasses back in. Noticing that the velveteen lining was pulled loose from one corner of the box, he gave it gentle tug. The entire bottom of the box lifted out to reveal a hidden space within. An old worn-out leather book was lying there. He opened it and saw that it was blank. William thought it over. Why would a blank book be in the box? It looked like a journal of some kind. None of this made any sense -- the magic glasses, the talking popcorn, the Colonel, whoever he was, and Cornwell.

  William looked out the window while he thought it through. Once again, he could not see the faint glow of the lanterns. He went over to the window and looked out. Just as he suspected, the lanterns were not lit. He put the items back into the box and stowed it under the bed.

  “Mr. Z. must be off his game,” he thought to himself, sliding on his shoes to go light the lanterns again. A cool breeze swept over William as he opened the door. Chilled, he stepped back in the house for his jacket, but it was upstairs in his room. He grabbed an old sweatshirt off the hook by the door and struggled to pull it on. He had practically grown out of it.

  “I’m putting this sweatshirt in the donation box first thing in the morning,” he said to himself as he stepped out onto the damp grass; he fidgeted to get the sweatshirt positioned so that it wasn’t so uncomfortable and regretted not having gone to get his jacket. When he reached the Zuckerwatte’s backyard, he located the tin can that held the matches in the garden box. He walked over, knelt down, and pulled the tarnished lever on the glass of the first lantern. The door swung open to allow access to the waiting wick. William withdrew a match and struck it against the rough side of the striker block. The first time was a charm. The warm flame danced on the match as he lowered it to the first wick. He swelled with pride; he had the hang of this now, and he was getting good at it. He blew out the match and shut the lantern door. The glass was old but spotless, and the handle on the top of the lantern curved into a simple loop. The lanterns were not extraordinary. In fact, they were really quite plain. However, when lit, they transformed into brilliance. William repeated the same operation with the remaining six lanterns. When they were all beaming, he stood up and dusted off his hands. He had successfully lit all the lanterns without one single problem, and he had only used five matches this time. He couldn’t wait to tell Mr. Z. how well he had done; now all he had to do was do the watering. He looked up to see the illuminated cornstalk and realized that the only ear of corn that had been growing was missing. The all too familiar knot in his stomach returned. This morning the glasses were an adventure, now he was wishing he’d never found them to begin with. He looked around on the ground to see if it had fallen off. This wasn’t good; what else could possibly go wrong? Mr. Z. had been devoted to that corn cob for months now. Walking around the circle of lanterns in a rush of panic, he saw a mint green corn husk discarded in the dirt and noticed another and then another, leading off into the dark. He grabbed one of the lanterns and followed the trail that ended at the garden shed. He decided that surely Mr. Zuckerwatte must have finally harvested the corn, and it was about time too, William hadn’t realized it took so long to grow corn. And why the fuss for just one ear of corn? That wouldn’t add much to a meal; maybe this was some rare species of corn. Satisfied with his investigation, he returned the lantern to its place around the cornstalk. The ring of light was complete once again. He looked up at the house, expecting to see Mr. Zuckerwatte watching him from the window, but he was not there. Perhaps this was why Mr. Zuckerwatte hadn’t lit the lanterns; the corn was ready.

  “Yes, that’s why,” William sa
id to himself. The house was quiet and still. Just as William entered the darkness at edge of the reach of the lantern light, he decided maybe he should extinguish the lanterns. Mr. Z. might think he was silly to light them since the corn was gone. He turned around to go back and tripped over the watering can, causing a clatter to ring out. Holding his breath, he froze, waiting for the night to recover its silence and hoping he had not disturbed anyone. No luck; the Zuckerwatte’s back porch light flickered on, and the door creaked open.

  “Edmund? Ees dat you?” said Mrs. Zuckerwatte. “Vere have you been?”

  “No, Mrs. Z.; it’s me, William,” he said. “Mr. Z. isn’t home?”

  Mrs. Zuckerwatte wrung her hands. “No Villiam, he isn’t, and I must say I’m becoming a bit vorried. Perhaps vee should phone zee policeman.”

  A twig snapped. William jerked his head around just in time to see what looked like the reflection of glass in the lantern light through a hole in the fence.

  “Ooo’s dere? Show yourself, you hooligan!” yelled Mrs.Z.

  Of course, no one answered, and no one came out of the shadows. The latch on the gate behind William squealed in protest as it began to move. The gate opened, the long-rusted hinges joining in the discord as if the gate had not been opened in many years. Looking over his shoulder, William watched as a shadowed figure emerged.

  Kettler Cornwell stood just out of the lantern light’s reach, a sinister look about him like a cat waiting to pounce. Suddenly he sprang forward. William turned to run but he wasn’t quick enough. Cornwell caught him by the hood of his sweatshirt. William fought against him, but his hood was pulled too tight, and since the sweatshirt was already too small, he was unable to wriggle out. He tried digging his heels into the ground, but the evening dew had created slippery blades of grass. Arms flailing, William fought against Cornwell.