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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Fairy Tale / Folk Tale
- Published: 03/23/2021
The Candy Gnome
Born 1966, F, from Sarasota/Florida, United StatesThe Candy Gnome
By Lea Sheryn
Darryl slid three quarters into the vending machine and weighed his options. The choices were the same; they were always the same. Nevertheless it was always a difficult decision first thing in the morning. As he stood in front of the plexiglass panel studying his options, the little fella in green popped out from behind a Snickers Bar. Folding his arms across his chest, he impatiently tapped his foot awaiting Darryl’s choice.
Funny, Darryl Blake was the only one who could see the gnome in the candy machine. Ever since he was a child, he had been able to see the little guy hiding behind one of the options. When he selected B-2 or G-8, the green clad figure would scurry into the right position to push out the candy bar or bag of chips within the line of rings holding it in place.
It never failed to excite Darryl. “Did you see that?” he would exclaim after he reached into the opening to claim his treat. Usually no one would admit to noticing such a strange sight until his workmate, Alvin Mims, asked: “Do you mean that little man in green who pushes the candy out?”
“You saw him? You really saw him?” Darryl responded in a voice full of awe. He could hardly believe there was someone else in the office who could see what he could see.
“Nah,” Alvin responded, giving Darryl a hearty slap on the back, “nothing there, mate. Not a thing.”
Crest-fallen, Darryl returned to his desk passing a myriad of staring eyes. It was a small office therefore everyone was privy to the conversation at the vending machine. He knew he had made a fool of himself again. Grown people simply didn’t believe in gnomes, fairies or elves. Nowadays even little children barely believed. But Darryl did; he knew they were real. And he was going to prove it.
The very next morning found Darryl Blake standing in front of the vending machine once again. The gnome was standing with his hand propped against an Entenmann’s honey bun. His tiny emerald clad legs were crossed at the ankles in anticipation of a prolonged decision process. Instead of making a choice, Darryl suddenly exclaimed: “There he is!” Pointing frantically at the A-3 position, he encouraged his co-workers to hurry over.
Chairs scraping the tiled floor filled the small room as employees pushed them away from desks to rush in a group toward the vending machine. The crowd pressed close to the candy dispenser as everyone peered inside then dispersed back to their daily assignments. “Nothing there, mate,” Alvin remarked, with a shrug of the shoulders. Behind Darryl’s back, he made a finger twirling sign beside his ear. “Man’s crazy,” he whispered to Stella Arbuckle, his desk mate. “No Nonsense Stella”, as she was known in the office, briskly nodded before turning back to her laptop.
Quickly punching the A-3 position with his stubby index finger, Darryl watched in awe as the gnome pushed the honey bun toward the plexiglass front of the machine. Bending swiftly, he claimed his breakfast before returning to his own desk. All eyes were focused on him as he crossed the room. “He’s really there, you know,” he assuredly exclaimed before returning to his seat.
The room fell into silence as the employees turned to their work. Some were amused by the thought of a gnome in the vending machine while others were disturbed by Darryl’s claims. Other than Alvin, no one challenged their co-worker’s assertions that what he saw was real. They understood he was a little different than the rest of them; he’d had a slight learning disability in school, but he was also good at his job. For the most part, he was friendly to all and well liked amongst the office staff. If he saw a little man pushing candy in the machine then let him. However, if it disturbed the jovial atmosphere of the workplace, that was another thing.
Alvin Mims felt differently from the rest. He had always been someone to make a big issue out of even the smallest occurrences. It wasn’t that he meant to be harmful or hurtful; it just gave him something to relieve the monotony of the serious office work. He failed to understand that what he thought of as funny could be distressing for a sensitive person like Darryl Blake.
Approaching the vending machine at the three o’clock break, Alvin addressed the candy gnome in a voice loud enough to capture the attention of the whole room. “Hello Norwood Gnome,” he announced as he propped his hand against the top of the machine and glared through the front panel. “I see you hiding in there behind the M&Ms. What shall it be today? Candy or chips?” Plunking three quarters into the slot, he reached his finger toward the D-2 button, hesitated, then moved toward G-9. Again he changed his mind and pushed B-7. “Nothing wakes a fella up better than a race amongst the snacks, I always say,” Alvin chuckled as he retrieved his bag of Fritos. “Perhaps we should take up a collection to buy the little guy a new pair of sneaks.”
“Would you really do that, Al?” Darryl asked as he approached the vending machine for his own snack. “That would be really nice of you. We could pick out of a pair of sneaks for him. Maybe even a pair of Nikes.” Shifting the three quarters around in his palm, he suddenly decided against his mid-afternoon candy bar and, grabbing ahold of Alvin’s hand, transferred the coins. “Seventy-five cents isn’t much but it’s a start.”
Dismayed, Alvin stood before a room of staring faces. In the candy machine behind him, the gnome stood with his face plastered against the plexiglass window. He knew he had taken his joke too far and, for once in his life, he didn’t know how to back out of it. Still clutching his bag of chips and the three coins, he silently returned to his desk.
“You can’t keep his money,” Stella whispered to Alvin as she slid her desk chair closer to his. The shiny silver quarters lay in a short stack beside his computer keyboard.
“What can I do? Everyone knows I was just pulling his leg.”
“Darryl didn’t know.”
“Darryl’s a mor…”
“Don’t say it, Alvin,” Stella cautioned. She might be a no nonsense employee, but she did have a heart; she had stood out against calling other people names all her life and wouldn’t stand for her desk mate doing it. “Darryl’s different, that’s all. He’s a nice guy and, if you ever needed anything, he would be right there for you. He’d be there for any of us. So leave him alone, why don’t you?”
“There’s no gnome in the candy machine, ‘Ella. Nothing there.” Rising to his feet, Alvin shouted across the room: “You’re not there, you stupid little creature! Not there! Do you get it, Darryl? There’s nothing in there.”
After the outburst, the office fell to silence. No one uttered a word; everyone put their minds on their work. When the hands on the big clock on the wall reached five o’clock: quitting time, all the employees including Darryl and Stella gathered their belongings and left without the usual good-bye chatter.
The next morning, when Alvin put his three quarters in the coin slot of the vending machine and selected the honey bun, a bag of Cheetos fell out. Instead of a Milky Way at mid-afternoon snack time, he got a packet of Mentos. All the other employees who approached the machine received the choices they selected. Behind the plexiglass, the gnome jumped gleefully up and down and made funny faces at his nemesis. Darryl laughed out loud at the antics of his little friend.
“What are you laughing at,” Alvin grumbled as he brought his disgruntled face close to Darryl’s.
“The gnome. He’s doing it on purpose because he knows you don’t believe in him.”
“Ridiculous!” Still Alvin took a fleeting glance toward the candy machine as he spoke. If he had seen the gnome, perhaps he would have been satisfied. To his eyes, there was no one there.
“It’s not ridiculous,” Darryl couldn’t help but counter. “He’s in there. I saw him. He’s right there.” With his finger outstretched, he placed it in the exact spot where the green clad little man stood. “Right there,” he repeated to emphasis his point.
“Is not!”
“What’s going on out here?” questioned the strong voice of Matthew Blake. No one noticed the boss enter the room from his private office. The sound of loud voices penetrating his sanctuary brought him to the floor.
“Your nephew,” Alvin spat his words, “sees gnomes.”
“In the candy machine,” Mr. Blake stated with dismay in his voice. In his heart, he knew it had been an unwise choice to give Darryl a job in his office, but family pressure had caused him to give in. The younger man had found it difficult to find permanent employment after he left school. When the opening came up in the office, his younger brother had asked him to give his boy a chance. Matt Blake reneged at first in view of Darryl’s slight disability; he felt the boy might not be able to keep up. On the other hand, he was personable and willing to do any task assigned to him with no complaint. In the end, he had acquiesced. Everything had gone well up until the candy gnome appeared.
Well, Mr. Blake resignedly understood he only had himself to blame. As a young boy, Darryl had first begun to see the figure dressed in green inside vending machines. Whether it was snacks or soda, the little man was always lurking behind the window. Consistently the child insistently pointed him out to anyone who happened to pass by. It had been a trifle embarrassing to explain the imaginative child to other people, but the family simply assumed he would outgrow his fantasy. It was a rude awakening to discover the gnome still existed in a young man’s mind.
“You knew about this?” Alvin asked from across the room.
Instead of responding, Mr. Blake took his nephew by the arm. “You’d better come in here for a while,” he suggested in a calming tone.” Re-entering his private office, he swung the door closed and offered Darryl a seat before his desk. Resuming his own position of authority on the opposite side, he sat with his hands folded on the blotter in front of him. “Are you seeing the gnome again?”
“He’s always there, Uncle Matt,” Darryl answered, his clear blue eyes showing the innocence of his belief.
“Are you sure, Darryl?”
“Yes, Uncle Matt.”
“Couldn’t you see him to yourself?” the exasperated uncle inquired.
“Yes, Uncle Matt.”
The rest of the week was peaceful. Darryl kept his mouth shut about the gnome; Alvin kept his mouth shut about Darryl. The gnome sat in the snack retrieval area at the bottom of the machine with his back against the metal wall and his knees propped up beneath his chin. Co-workers approached the vendor and selected their goodies then returned to their places to eat in silence.
On Monday, the gnome was up to his tricks again. Tipping his little green feathered hat at Darryl when he approached the vending machine, he gleefully rushed toward the packet of frosted donuts in the C-1 position. When Alvin plunked his three coins into the change slot, the little fella remained in the upper left hand corner with his back pressed against the metal wall; nothing came out. Al kicked at the bottom portion of the snack dispenser; he roughly shook it from the top then jiggled the coin retrieval lever. Nothing happened.
Behind the window, the gnome jumped up and down, making faces and rude gestures at Alvin. Merrily laughing, he missed his footing and tumbled into the bottom of the machine. Undeterred, he leaped to his feet and did a quick jig in the candy retrieval area. Darryl burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Alvin snapped, turning on his workmate.
“The gnome is doing a dance,” Darryl innocently responded.
“There’s nothing there!” Al shouted in annoyance.
“He is too.”
“Let’s calm down, guys, and get some work done,” Stella Arbuckle suggested in her calm, no nonsense manner. “No one can get anything done while you two are bickering about the gnome.”
The rest of the day slid past uneventfully. Everyone completed their duties in a timely fashion with no further interruption. When the day ended, belongings were gathered, coats donned, and good-nights exchanged. The office lay in silence awaiting the next day’s activities.
“Just a moment, Darryl,” Alvin called as the young man was following the crowd out the door. “No hard feelings, okay, mate?”
“Yeah, sure,” Darryl responded, turning back at the doorway. It wouldn’t have occurred to him to hold a grudge or to get angry at his co-worker; it just wasn’t in his nature.
“Come here a moment.” Al gestured toward the candy dispenser. Standing side by side, the older man with his arm across the younger man’s shoulders, they stood in front of the plexiglass panel. “Now, tell me what you see.”
Darryl allowed his eyes to roam from the top of the machine to the bottom before he started to speak. “I see donuts and candy bars and bags of chips.”
“That’s right. And nothing else?”
“I see the gnome. He’s standing next to a Three Musketeer with his hand propped against it and his legs crossed at the ankles. He always stands like that when he’s waiting for you to make a decision,” the young man responded with alacrity.
“He’s not there, Darryl,” Al stated in his most calm and convincing voice. “He’s never been there. You’re seeing things in your imagination.”
“He is too there! I can see him right next to the Three Musketeer. I’ll wave at him and he’ll wave back, you’ll see.” Darryl raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at the window; promptly the gnome waved back with a wide grin overspreading his mouth. “There! I told you! He did it.”
“You’re crazy!” Alvin shouted as he jabbed his finger toward the gnome. “There’s nothing there. Admit it!”
“But he’s right there!”
“He is not!” Roughly Alvin grabbed the top of the machine and shook it with all his might. Surprised by the sudden onslaught, the gnome crashed against the plexiglass window at full force before tumbling to the bottom. Knocked unconscious, the green clad man lay lifeless in the retrieval area.
“You hurt him!” Darryl exclaimed, falling to his knees and reaching in to cradle the gnome in his opened palms.
“Get out of here!” Alvin screamed, grabbing Darryl by the shoulders and heaving him toward the door. Slamming it with all his mighty, he shut out the hopeless young man and returned to the vending machine. By this time, the gnome was on his feet and angry. “You’re not there,” the frustrated employee shouted. “Get it? Not there. Never was, never will be.”
On Tuesday morning, Alvin Mims didn’t show up for work. Since he had never missed a day in his life, it was an unusual occurrence. Even “No Nonsense” Stella didn’t know what was wrong with Alvin. At around eleven o’clock in the morning, the office door opened admitting a rather rotund fellow clad in a pair of green slacks, a white pirate style shirt with a plaid unbuttoned vest over the top. Sweeping gallantly through the room beneath the wide staring eyes of all the employees, he marched straight into Matthew Blake’s private sanctuary. After what seemed an eternity, he emerged with the boss.
“This is Norwood Greene,” Matthew Blake introduced. “He’ll take over Alvin Mims’ position as of today.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the new man strolled over to Al’s desk and plunked down next to Stella Arbuckle who regarded him with suspicion. As soon as the boss returned to his office the whispering began. Questions flew back and forth regarding the departure of Alvin Mims and the arrival of Norwood Greene. Ignoring the gossips, the new man leaned back in his desk chair with his arms clasped behind his head. The only one who held him with any regard was Darryl Blake. The more the young man looked, the more he believed he recognized Norwood from somewhere; however he wasn’t sure how he knew him.
During the afternoon break, Darryl was the only one to approach the vending machine. Sliding his three quarters into the slot, he weighed his options. Sitting on the ledge behind the plexiglass window was a disgruntled little figure clad in red. With his arms tightly crossed over his chest and a deep scowl marking his face, the Candy Gnome was different than the one who had always been there. Leaning in closer to peer inside, Darryl’s face suddenly lit up. “It’s Alvin!” he shouted gleefully. “Hi Al!” Raising both hands, he wiggled his fingers in a delighted wave. The gnome jumped to his feet to raise his fists at his former workmate.
“Not to fear, Darryl,” Norwood Greene soothed as he came to stand beside the young man. “Al will get used to it in there; it just takes time.” Reaching out his finger toward the D-2 button, he hesitated, then moved to G-9. With another change of heart, he finally pushed B-7. “Nothing wakes a fella up to his new job than a race amongst the snacks, I always say,” Norwood chuckled as he retrieved his bag of Fritos. “Lucky Al has a new pair of sneaks.”
Dumbstruck, Darryl followed Norwood back to his desk. “You’re him; you’re the candy gnome,” he exclaimed, pleased to suddenly realize where he had seen Norwood before.
“No, I’m not…not anymore,” Norwood explained, a grin suddenly crossing his face. “Once upon a time, I—like Alvin Mims—didn’t believe in candy gnomes. I tried to convince a fella just like you that they didn’t exist. The gnome in the machine cursed me and we exchanged places. Last night was my turn. Al will live in the machine until another disbeliever comes along. Until then, it is his job to grant the wishes of anyone who has three quarters to spend in the snack machine.”
The Candy Gnome(Lea Sheryn)
The Candy Gnome
By Lea Sheryn
Darryl slid three quarters into the vending machine and weighed his options. The choices were the same; they were always the same. Nevertheless it was always a difficult decision first thing in the morning. As he stood in front of the plexiglass panel studying his options, the little fella in green popped out from behind a Snickers Bar. Folding his arms across his chest, he impatiently tapped his foot awaiting Darryl’s choice.
Funny, Darryl Blake was the only one who could see the gnome in the candy machine. Ever since he was a child, he had been able to see the little guy hiding behind one of the options. When he selected B-2 or G-8, the green clad figure would scurry into the right position to push out the candy bar or bag of chips within the line of rings holding it in place.
It never failed to excite Darryl. “Did you see that?” he would exclaim after he reached into the opening to claim his treat. Usually no one would admit to noticing such a strange sight until his workmate, Alvin Mims, asked: “Do you mean that little man in green who pushes the candy out?”
“You saw him? You really saw him?” Darryl responded in a voice full of awe. He could hardly believe there was someone else in the office who could see what he could see.
“Nah,” Alvin responded, giving Darryl a hearty slap on the back, “nothing there, mate. Not a thing.”
Crest-fallen, Darryl returned to his desk passing a myriad of staring eyes. It was a small office therefore everyone was privy to the conversation at the vending machine. He knew he had made a fool of himself again. Grown people simply didn’t believe in gnomes, fairies or elves. Nowadays even little children barely believed. But Darryl did; he knew they were real. And he was going to prove it.
The very next morning found Darryl Blake standing in front of the vending machine once again. The gnome was standing with his hand propped against an Entenmann’s honey bun. His tiny emerald clad legs were crossed at the ankles in anticipation of a prolonged decision process. Instead of making a choice, Darryl suddenly exclaimed: “There he is!” Pointing frantically at the A-3 position, he encouraged his co-workers to hurry over.
Chairs scraping the tiled floor filled the small room as employees pushed them away from desks to rush in a group toward the vending machine. The crowd pressed close to the candy dispenser as everyone peered inside then dispersed back to their daily assignments. “Nothing there, mate,” Alvin remarked, with a shrug of the shoulders. Behind Darryl’s back, he made a finger twirling sign beside his ear. “Man’s crazy,” he whispered to Stella Arbuckle, his desk mate. “No Nonsense Stella”, as she was known in the office, briskly nodded before turning back to her laptop.
Quickly punching the A-3 position with his stubby index finger, Darryl watched in awe as the gnome pushed the honey bun toward the plexiglass front of the machine. Bending swiftly, he claimed his breakfast before returning to his own desk. All eyes were focused on him as he crossed the room. “He’s really there, you know,” he assuredly exclaimed before returning to his seat.
The room fell into silence as the employees turned to their work. Some were amused by the thought of a gnome in the vending machine while others were disturbed by Darryl’s claims. Other than Alvin, no one challenged their co-worker’s assertions that what he saw was real. They understood he was a little different than the rest of them; he’d had a slight learning disability in school, but he was also good at his job. For the most part, he was friendly to all and well liked amongst the office staff. If he saw a little man pushing candy in the machine then let him. However, if it disturbed the jovial atmosphere of the workplace, that was another thing.
Alvin Mims felt differently from the rest. He had always been someone to make a big issue out of even the smallest occurrences. It wasn’t that he meant to be harmful or hurtful; it just gave him something to relieve the monotony of the serious office work. He failed to understand that what he thought of as funny could be distressing for a sensitive person like Darryl Blake.
Approaching the vending machine at the three o’clock break, Alvin addressed the candy gnome in a voice loud enough to capture the attention of the whole room. “Hello Norwood Gnome,” he announced as he propped his hand against the top of the machine and glared through the front panel. “I see you hiding in there behind the M&Ms. What shall it be today? Candy or chips?” Plunking three quarters into the slot, he reached his finger toward the D-2 button, hesitated, then moved toward G-9. Again he changed his mind and pushed B-7. “Nothing wakes a fella up better than a race amongst the snacks, I always say,” Alvin chuckled as he retrieved his bag of Fritos. “Perhaps we should take up a collection to buy the little guy a new pair of sneaks.”
“Would you really do that, Al?” Darryl asked as he approached the vending machine for his own snack. “That would be really nice of you. We could pick out of a pair of sneaks for him. Maybe even a pair of Nikes.” Shifting the three quarters around in his palm, he suddenly decided against his mid-afternoon candy bar and, grabbing ahold of Alvin’s hand, transferred the coins. “Seventy-five cents isn’t much but it’s a start.”
Dismayed, Alvin stood before a room of staring faces. In the candy machine behind him, the gnome stood with his face plastered against the plexiglass window. He knew he had taken his joke too far and, for once in his life, he didn’t know how to back out of it. Still clutching his bag of chips and the three coins, he silently returned to his desk.
“You can’t keep his money,” Stella whispered to Alvin as she slid her desk chair closer to his. The shiny silver quarters lay in a short stack beside his computer keyboard.
“What can I do? Everyone knows I was just pulling his leg.”
“Darryl didn’t know.”
“Darryl’s a mor…”
“Don’t say it, Alvin,” Stella cautioned. She might be a no nonsense employee, but she did have a heart; she had stood out against calling other people names all her life and wouldn’t stand for her desk mate doing it. “Darryl’s different, that’s all. He’s a nice guy and, if you ever needed anything, he would be right there for you. He’d be there for any of us. So leave him alone, why don’t you?”
“There’s no gnome in the candy machine, ‘Ella. Nothing there.” Rising to his feet, Alvin shouted across the room: “You’re not there, you stupid little creature! Not there! Do you get it, Darryl? There’s nothing in there.”
After the outburst, the office fell to silence. No one uttered a word; everyone put their minds on their work. When the hands on the big clock on the wall reached five o’clock: quitting time, all the employees including Darryl and Stella gathered their belongings and left without the usual good-bye chatter.
The next morning, when Alvin put his three quarters in the coin slot of the vending machine and selected the honey bun, a bag of Cheetos fell out. Instead of a Milky Way at mid-afternoon snack time, he got a packet of Mentos. All the other employees who approached the machine received the choices they selected. Behind the plexiglass, the gnome jumped gleefully up and down and made funny faces at his nemesis. Darryl laughed out loud at the antics of his little friend.
“What are you laughing at,” Alvin grumbled as he brought his disgruntled face close to Darryl’s.
“The gnome. He’s doing it on purpose because he knows you don’t believe in him.”
“Ridiculous!” Still Alvin took a fleeting glance toward the candy machine as he spoke. If he had seen the gnome, perhaps he would have been satisfied. To his eyes, there was no one there.
“It’s not ridiculous,” Darryl couldn’t help but counter. “He’s in there. I saw him. He’s right there.” With his finger outstretched, he placed it in the exact spot where the green clad little man stood. “Right there,” he repeated to emphasis his point.
“Is not!”
“What’s going on out here?” questioned the strong voice of Matthew Blake. No one noticed the boss enter the room from his private office. The sound of loud voices penetrating his sanctuary brought him to the floor.
“Your nephew,” Alvin spat his words, “sees gnomes.”
“In the candy machine,” Mr. Blake stated with dismay in his voice. In his heart, he knew it had been an unwise choice to give Darryl a job in his office, but family pressure had caused him to give in. The younger man had found it difficult to find permanent employment after he left school. When the opening came up in the office, his younger brother had asked him to give his boy a chance. Matt Blake reneged at first in view of Darryl’s slight disability; he felt the boy might not be able to keep up. On the other hand, he was personable and willing to do any task assigned to him with no complaint. In the end, he had acquiesced. Everything had gone well up until the candy gnome appeared.
Well, Mr. Blake resignedly understood he only had himself to blame. As a young boy, Darryl had first begun to see the figure dressed in green inside vending machines. Whether it was snacks or soda, the little man was always lurking behind the window. Consistently the child insistently pointed him out to anyone who happened to pass by. It had been a trifle embarrassing to explain the imaginative child to other people, but the family simply assumed he would outgrow his fantasy. It was a rude awakening to discover the gnome still existed in a young man’s mind.
“You knew about this?” Alvin asked from across the room.
Instead of responding, Mr. Blake took his nephew by the arm. “You’d better come in here for a while,” he suggested in a calming tone.” Re-entering his private office, he swung the door closed and offered Darryl a seat before his desk. Resuming his own position of authority on the opposite side, he sat with his hands folded on the blotter in front of him. “Are you seeing the gnome again?”
“He’s always there, Uncle Matt,” Darryl answered, his clear blue eyes showing the innocence of his belief.
“Are you sure, Darryl?”
“Yes, Uncle Matt.”
“Couldn’t you see him to yourself?” the exasperated uncle inquired.
“Yes, Uncle Matt.”
The rest of the week was peaceful. Darryl kept his mouth shut about the gnome; Alvin kept his mouth shut about Darryl. The gnome sat in the snack retrieval area at the bottom of the machine with his back against the metal wall and his knees propped up beneath his chin. Co-workers approached the vendor and selected their goodies then returned to their places to eat in silence.
On Monday, the gnome was up to his tricks again. Tipping his little green feathered hat at Darryl when he approached the vending machine, he gleefully rushed toward the packet of frosted donuts in the C-1 position. When Alvin plunked his three coins into the change slot, the little fella remained in the upper left hand corner with his back pressed against the metal wall; nothing came out. Al kicked at the bottom portion of the snack dispenser; he roughly shook it from the top then jiggled the coin retrieval lever. Nothing happened.
Behind the window, the gnome jumped up and down, making faces and rude gestures at Alvin. Merrily laughing, he missed his footing and tumbled into the bottom of the machine. Undeterred, he leaped to his feet and did a quick jig in the candy retrieval area. Darryl burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Alvin snapped, turning on his workmate.
“The gnome is doing a dance,” Darryl innocently responded.
“There’s nothing there!” Al shouted in annoyance.
“He is too.”
“Let’s calm down, guys, and get some work done,” Stella Arbuckle suggested in her calm, no nonsense manner. “No one can get anything done while you two are bickering about the gnome.”
The rest of the day slid past uneventfully. Everyone completed their duties in a timely fashion with no further interruption. When the day ended, belongings were gathered, coats donned, and good-nights exchanged. The office lay in silence awaiting the next day’s activities.
“Just a moment, Darryl,” Alvin called as the young man was following the crowd out the door. “No hard feelings, okay, mate?”
“Yeah, sure,” Darryl responded, turning back at the doorway. It wouldn’t have occurred to him to hold a grudge or to get angry at his co-worker; it just wasn’t in his nature.
“Come here a moment.” Al gestured toward the candy dispenser. Standing side by side, the older man with his arm across the younger man’s shoulders, they stood in front of the plexiglass panel. “Now, tell me what you see.”
Darryl allowed his eyes to roam from the top of the machine to the bottom before he started to speak. “I see donuts and candy bars and bags of chips.”
“That’s right. And nothing else?”
“I see the gnome. He’s standing next to a Three Musketeer with his hand propped against it and his legs crossed at the ankles. He always stands like that when he’s waiting for you to make a decision,” the young man responded with alacrity.
“He’s not there, Darryl,” Al stated in his most calm and convincing voice. “He’s never been there. You’re seeing things in your imagination.”
“He is too there! I can see him right next to the Three Musketeer. I’ll wave at him and he’ll wave back, you’ll see.” Darryl raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at the window; promptly the gnome waved back with a wide grin overspreading his mouth. “There! I told you! He did it.”
“You’re crazy!” Alvin shouted as he jabbed his finger toward the gnome. “There’s nothing there. Admit it!”
“But he’s right there!”
“He is not!” Roughly Alvin grabbed the top of the machine and shook it with all his might. Surprised by the sudden onslaught, the gnome crashed against the plexiglass window at full force before tumbling to the bottom. Knocked unconscious, the green clad man lay lifeless in the retrieval area.
“You hurt him!” Darryl exclaimed, falling to his knees and reaching in to cradle the gnome in his opened palms.
“Get out of here!” Alvin screamed, grabbing Darryl by the shoulders and heaving him toward the door. Slamming it with all his mighty, he shut out the hopeless young man and returned to the vending machine. By this time, the gnome was on his feet and angry. “You’re not there,” the frustrated employee shouted. “Get it? Not there. Never was, never will be.”
On Tuesday morning, Alvin Mims didn’t show up for work. Since he had never missed a day in his life, it was an unusual occurrence. Even “No Nonsense” Stella didn’t know what was wrong with Alvin. At around eleven o’clock in the morning, the office door opened admitting a rather rotund fellow clad in a pair of green slacks, a white pirate style shirt with a plaid unbuttoned vest over the top. Sweeping gallantly through the room beneath the wide staring eyes of all the employees, he marched straight into Matthew Blake’s private sanctuary. After what seemed an eternity, he emerged with the boss.
“This is Norwood Greene,” Matthew Blake introduced. “He’ll take over Alvin Mims’ position as of today.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the new man strolled over to Al’s desk and plunked down next to Stella Arbuckle who regarded him with suspicion. As soon as the boss returned to his office the whispering began. Questions flew back and forth regarding the departure of Alvin Mims and the arrival of Norwood Greene. Ignoring the gossips, the new man leaned back in his desk chair with his arms clasped behind his head. The only one who held him with any regard was Darryl Blake. The more the young man looked, the more he believed he recognized Norwood from somewhere; however he wasn’t sure how he knew him.
During the afternoon break, Darryl was the only one to approach the vending machine. Sliding his three quarters into the slot, he weighed his options. Sitting on the ledge behind the plexiglass window was a disgruntled little figure clad in red. With his arms tightly crossed over his chest and a deep scowl marking his face, the Candy Gnome was different than the one who had always been there. Leaning in closer to peer inside, Darryl’s face suddenly lit up. “It’s Alvin!” he shouted gleefully. “Hi Al!” Raising both hands, he wiggled his fingers in a delighted wave. The gnome jumped to his feet to raise his fists at his former workmate.
“Not to fear, Darryl,” Norwood Greene soothed as he came to stand beside the young man. “Al will get used to it in there; it just takes time.” Reaching out his finger toward the D-2 button, he hesitated, then moved to G-9. With another change of heart, he finally pushed B-7. “Nothing wakes a fella up to his new job than a race amongst the snacks, I always say,” Norwood chuckled as he retrieved his bag of Fritos. “Lucky Al has a new pair of sneaks.”
Dumbstruck, Darryl followed Norwood back to his desk. “You’re him; you’re the candy gnome,” he exclaimed, pleased to suddenly realize where he had seen Norwood before.
“No, I’m not…not anymore,” Norwood explained, a grin suddenly crossing his face. “Once upon a time, I—like Alvin Mims—didn’t believe in candy gnomes. I tried to convince a fella just like you that they didn’t exist. The gnome in the machine cursed me and we exchanged places. Last night was my turn. Al will live in the machine until another disbeliever comes along. Until then, it is his job to grant the wishes of anyone who has three quarters to spend in the snack machine.”
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JD
05/26/2021That was a lot of fun, Lea! Not sure if it did not become a bit more of a horror story at the end there, but you definitely built up the intrigue and then added a great surprise twist at the end that really packed a sweet punch! Great job! Happy short story STAR of the day! : )
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