Mr. Johnson’s candy shop was Andy’s favorite place in the whole world. It was amazing. Every day after school he’d hurry down the street, clutching the straps of his blue backpack, his pulse growing quick with excitement. When he finally arrived at the shop, four and a half city blocks from his home, he’d stop for a moment outside the window and look at the display.
The front window always held something special. Before Christmas it might be a Christmas tree made entirely of gingerbread, with snow-white icing. Once, during the summer, a model train chugged its way in a neat circle through a meadow of spun sugar, passing lollipop trees and marzipan livestock as it made its circuit.
On this particular day, a small waterfall of chocolate fell down into a thick pool of the liquid. Within the pond swam a dozen red, waxy Swedish fish. A small toy figure sat on a licorice log and dipped his spun sugar fishing-line into the chocolate pool in hope of a catch.
Andy could practically taste the chocolate on his tongue as he pushed open the door. The overhead bell jingled in welcome. Andy stuck his hand into his pocket and clutched the two quarters there with a sweaty palm. He always got fifty cents in change from his lunch money, and every day he’d bring it with him to the shop and get something. It was just enough to buy one piece of candy. Sometimes, if he was really lucky, Mr. Johnson would slip him an extra piece for free, winking as he passed the chocolate or gobstopper or box of jellybeans into Andy’s hand.
Today, when Andy entered the shop, it was mysteriously empty. This was not as strange as it might seem; the shop was always crowded right after school, when all the children were eager for a sweet treat, but today it was barely noon; Andy had had a half-day of school today, since the afternoon was parent-teacher conferences. This was something new that they had now that Andy was in middle school. Fifth grade was much different than fourth grade had been, but if he got half a day off, he wasn’t complaining.
Andy strolled up to the counter and twisted his blue baseball cap around backwards on his head so he could press his face against the glass. He stared eagerly at the great glass jars of handful-candy. Jellybeans, gumdrops, tootsie rolls, M&Ms... fifty cents would buy you a big scoopful in a paper bag, to pick at and munch as you went home. Andy rubbed the quarters between his fingers, trying to decide what he’d get.
After five minutes or so of no appearance of either any other customers or of Mr. Johnson, Andy started to get worried. Also, he really wanted to buy his candy. Where was the friendly owner? He looked around for the familiar rotund figure, smooth white apron over his thick chest, sparse graying hair at his temples.
“Mr. Johnson?” he called out, glancing around the store. “Are you here?”
About thirty seconds later the curtain that separated the behind-the-counter area from the storage room in the back was roughly yanked aside, and Mr. Johnson appeared. His face was flushed and he was panting slightly. Andy looked up at him over the top of the glass counter. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Mr. Johnson, smiling. He tugged at the collar of his shirt as though trying to cool himself. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanna get some candy!” said Andy eagerly.
“Is that so?” Mr. Johnson smiled. “You’re here early today, Scout. Why’s that?”
“Parent-teacher conferences.” Andy said this absently, having gone back to surveying the goods behind the glass wall. Maybe he should go to the wall at the side and pick out some boxed candy instead. Usually that was more expensive, but if it was only a little bit more, Mr. Johnson might be nice and give it to him anyway. “They’d be mad at me if they knew I was eating candy right before lunch like this, but they’re at school anyway, so they won’t know.”
“Oh?” said Mr. Johnson, and there was a funny sound in his voice, like he was choking a little. “So, you’d just be home alone then, huh? They’re not going to be missing you because you stopped off here?”
“Nope.” Maybe gum. Maybe he should get some sweet bubble-gum. That stuff lasted forever if you were good. Andy looked idly at the gum rack in the middle of the floor. So many different kinds to choose from.
“I have an idea. Something special, if you’d like to try it,” said Mr. Johnson. Andy’s head picked up, and he looked over at the man. Mr. Johnson’s large barrel chest was still heaving slightly, and his face was redder than ever. He smiled at Andy once he had the boy’s attention. “I’m working on a new candy right now. It’s very top secret—you wouldn’t be allowed to talk about it. But if you like, you can taste test it. I need a taster right now, so I know what to work on.”
Andy’s eyes grew large as saucers. “Really?” he said breathlessly. “Me? A new candy?”
Mr. Johnson smiled and nodded. “So, would you like to, then?”
Andy nodded so quickly he thought his head might come off. Mr. Johnson chuckled and stepped out from behind the counter. As he did so, Andy noticed a weird bulge in the usually smooth front of his white apron, but he didn’t think about it much. Mr. Johnson walked—slower than usual, and strangely too, weird—to the front door and flipped over the “We’re Open!” sign to “Sorry, We’re Closed.” He turned around and smiled at Andy. “It was almost time for my lunch break anyway,” he said.
He stepped back to the counter and opened the little gate in one side. With a smile, he beckoned Andy to follow him. Andy was super excited—he’d never been allowed behind the counter before! He trotted after Mr. Johnson until they reached the deep blue curtain that led to the back room. Then Mr. Johnson stopped and turned to him.
“I want you to wait here for a second,” he said. “I have to go get it ready. I’ll call you to come in when I’m ready for you, okay?”
Andy nodded and got comfortable leaning against the wall as Mr. Johnson disappeared behind the curtain. As he waited, Andy’s eyes fell on the rows and rows of glass jars on the counter shelves. From this side, he had easy access to them. It would be truly simple to just reach forward, pick up a lid and grab a handful, pop it in his mouth. Mr. Johnson would never know.
Andy frowned at himself. Now that was a rotten thought! Mr. Johnson was super nice, and he was being extra nice to Andy, showing him the new secret candy and all that. Stealing from him was not a good way to say thank you. Andy restrained himself, tucking his hands into his pockets just to make sure. About a minute later, he heard Mr. Johnson’s voice coming from the back room—“Alright Andy, come on!”—and eagerly pushed aside the blue curtain.
The back room was not what he had expected. He had somehow imagined that it would be even more spectacular than the front, with different kinds of candy covering every surface, especially if Mr. Johnson was inventing new candies here.
Instead, the sunny tiles of the candy shop floor gave way to rough, gray concrete. Most of the room was taken up by stacks and stacks of dull cardboard boxes. Long fluorescent lights overhead gave a dim, yellowish tint to the drab white walls.
On a low stool against one wall sat Mr. Johnson. Andy trotted towards him. In Mr. Johnson’s lap was a cardboard display box, of the kind used to stick lollipops into; usually they were about two inches tall and peppered with small holes for the paper sticks, holes that went all the way through the top and bottom of the box so that the lollipops would stay upright.
This box was slightly different though, Andy realized as he got closer. Instead of a bunch of little holes, this box had one bigger hole near the middle. And the box itself was a lot thinner than the two-inch lollipop boxes; this one was probably only about half an inch tall.
Sticking up through the hole in the middle was a long, thick item, neatly wrapped in gold foil. Andy was fascinated. Mr. Johnson was smiling.
“Here,” he said to Andy. “Kneel down.” Mr. Johnson’s legs were spread to either side, so Andy could easily kneel between them. He knelt down, his gaze fixed on the strange new candy. He could feel his heart thumping like crazy, super excited about trying this new treat.
“Can I unwrap it?” he whispered.
Mr. Johnson smiled and nodded. Andy reached out and carefully grasped the shiny golden foil at the bottom edge. Gently he peeled it away, pulling it up and off of the candy beneath.
It looked slightly odd for a candy. It was shaped a little like a popsicle, only it had a flared out bit at the top. It was dark pinkish-red. Andy reached out to pick it up, but Mr. Johnson put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
“It’s not too sturdy yet,” he said. “You’re going to have to suck on it right in the box like this. Sorry about that. But you’ll like this, I promise. The outside is wax, so it probably won’t taste as good, but if you suck on it for a while without ever biting it, there’s a secret surprise at the end.”
Andy’s eyes widened again. “Really?” he said breathlessly.
“Yup,” said Mr. Johnson. “But you can’t let your teeth touch it. Otherwise it doesn’t work.”
“Okay!” said Andy. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and licked the candy. First he just licked at the top part, where it was bigger. It didn’t really taste like much, maybe a little salty. He smeared his saliva over it with his tongue, licking it over again, trying to get the taste of it. His tongue swirled all around the top, tasting, but still there was little to taste. He moved his tongue down to the tall part and began licking up and down, like he would an ice cream.
A weird strangled sound made Andy look up, and he saw that Mr. Johnson had the strangest pinched look on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” said Mr. Johnson, but his voice was weird and breathy. He took a few moments to get back his breath, then smiled at Andy. “It works best if you put it in your mouth like a popsicle,” he said. He reached out and lifted off Andy’s cap, exposing messy light-brown hair. “So that doesn’t get in the way,” he explained as he put it on the floor next to them. “And here.” He lifted Andy’s arms and placed one on each of his thighs. “This way you can brace yourself. Get a better angle.”
Andy nodded and braced himself on his arms, positioning his mouth over the top of the candy. Gently he lowered himself down and slipped the candy between his parted lips. He couldn’t fit very much of it in his mouth, especially at this angle, but he got at least the whole knob part inside and sucked on it eagerly. He felt Mr. Johnson’s hands come down to rest in his hair, pulling lightly at the strands, which was a little weird, but it didn’t feel bad so he didn’t stop it. Instead he concentrated all his energy on the candy.
He opened his mouth slightly so he could swirl his tongue around the top part—it was a good shape for that. Then he stuck his tongue out and put as much of the candy in his mouth as he could, fluttering his tongue against the long part.
Once again he heard the strangled moan above him, and he was about to back off again and make sure Mr. Johnson was okay, but the hands in his hair stopped him.
“I’m fine,” Mr. Johnson assured. “Here.” His voice was very tight. “Try to relax your throat as much as you can. I’ll show you the best way to do this.”
Andy tried to do as he was told, but it wasn’t enough; When Mr. Johnson pushed his head sharply downward, he gagged as the candy hit the back of his throat. He came up sputtering.
“That’s okay,” said Mr. Johnson. “Keep trying. It just takes a little practice. Just concentrate on relaxing your throat.”
It took a couple more tries, a couple more times of the candy hitting the back of his throat, making him gag and spit it out, before Andy suddenly got the hang of it. All of a sudden, the entire length of the candy slid deep into his throat. Andy tried to swallow, and his throat constricted around the candy.
“That’s good!” said Mr. Johnson excitedly. “Now keep your throat relaxed, just like that.”
He tightened his hands in Andy’s hair and began pulling Andy’s head up. Not sure what to do, Andy allowed his head to be moved until most of the candy had slipped out of his mouth, only to suddenly have his head pushed back down again. He finally started to get the idea of it as Mr. Johnson’s hands forced his head up and down, up and down, the candy sliding quicker and quicker in and out of his throat.
‘This isn’t exactly how you eat popsicles,’ Andy thought, but then, this wasn’t really a popsicle anyway. It was something else.
Andy finally got the hang of it and began to move his head up and down with his own body, rather than at the directive of Mr. Johnson’s hands. Mr. Johnson’s grip on his hair relaxed as he bobbed his head up and down over the candy. It became sort of a game, seeing how hard he could plunge the thing down into his throat each time, how far he could make it go. He made some happy murmuring noises in his throat as the candy plunged between his lips, down into his mouth. Mr. Johnson’s hands tightened in his hair at the sound.
Something about the excitement of the situation made him speed up. He was eager to get to the promised surprise. His head was bobbing so fast now that it seemed almost as though the candy was being thrust upward to meet him, as though it was being rammed up into his throat as much as he was plunging his mouth onto it. The salty taste of the wax was thick in his mouth now, but he barely tasted it, distracted by the sensation of the thick object sliding in and out of him.
Then suddenly, Mr. Johnson grabbed his head and pulled him back until only about half of the candy was still in his mouth, pulled out of the depths of his throat. He felt the candy explode against his tongue and a thick gooey liquid fill his mouth.
Andy suddenly realized very quickly that he was going to have to start swallowing it, because the strange liquid was still coming. He managed to get a couple of gulps of it down his throat, but spurts of the stuff kept coming until he was forced to release the candy and let the last few loads of the stuff squirt onto his face as well as into his still open mouth. Some of it dripped past his lips and down his chin. The final squirt landed directly onto his tongue.
Andy closed his mouth and swallowed what was left of the liquid inside. Then he used his fingers to mop up the spills on the cardboard box and some of the stuff that dripped from his face. He licked them experimentally, finally getting a good chance to taste the goo.
Mr. Johnson reached out and wiped off Andy’s face with the corner of his apron. Andy submitted gamely. “So,” said the older man, “how was it?”
Andy made a face. “It’s a good idea,” he said. “I like how it explodes at the end. But the cream doesn’t taste very good.”
Mr. Johnson nodded seriously. “All right,” he said. “I’ll work on the taste. Would you be willing to come back and try again tomorrow? In fact, if your parents won’t mind missing you for a few minutes after school every day, you can come by every day and keep testing for me until I get it right. How does that sound?”
“Really?” squealed Andy.
“As long as you keep it a secret,” Mr. Johnson promised.
“I will, I will!” Andy said excitedly. He rose up from his knees. The salty, slightly bitter taste still lingered on his tongue. Hopefully next time it would be sweeter. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” he called out as he bounced out the door.