Leftover Popcorn

As soon as the movie ended, Mama told me to go to bed. I, being only seven years old, certainly could not object, since it was ten o'clock and well past my bedtime. Still, I frowned and defiantly I snatched a piece of buttery popcorn from the half-empty bowl on the coffee table. Mama slapped my wrist sharply and wordlessly she pointed up the dark staircase where lay my bedroom.
I hung my head and trudged up the stairs. I started hesitantly for the bathroom to brush my teeth (no doubt laden with shards of the popcorn), knowing that once the paste entered my mouth all hope of obtaining more delicious popcorn was diminished. I sighed and brushed my teeth, rather peculiarly saddened by my deprivation of the snack.
I lay awake in bed for many long minutes after that, and those minutes eventually smelted into one even longer hour. I stared wistfully at my clock, whose digits seemed to flicker and fade before my eyes, only to brighten again when I blinked. I dreamt of the bowl of popcorn, doubtless moved out of sight by now, and how I might get it—wishing for morning to appear so that I could spring up and seize the tasty treat.
Mama and Papa seldom settled asleep until midnight struck, and here it was only a bit past eleven. Nevertheless, midnight would come sooner than morning, and I plotted to stay awake long enough to outlast Mama and Papa. I smirked at my own clever thinking and set my eyes once more on the waning clock, awaiting my time to strike.
My plan was pristine—simple and immaculate. And it would have worked, too, but that upon entry into my mind the will to stay awake, the phantom of sleep crept up unnoticed and subdued my underdeveloped psyche. Because I fell asleep, however, with thoughts of awakening, my rising was fittingly early, as though my consciousness tried to accommodate for both my wishes at once.
As soon as I awoke, my eyes sprang open in almost terror—my first thought was the failure of my plan. I was filled with energy as I rushed to dress myself, rushed to put slippers on my cold feet, rushed down the flight of stairs (counting each step, careful not to trip), and rushed round the bannister to the living room. There I stopped, nearly panicking to see the coffee table devoid of all dishes. I ran round the corner and into the kitchen, opening every cabinet and drawer frantically to find the delectable delight.
Then I chanced to turn and peer out the window, looking twice, seeing something I had not expected. My jaw dropped open and my heart flopped when I saw Mama out by the pond in the yard, near-empty bowl in hand, feeding the puffy white kernels to a gleefully waddling duck. Helplessly I shrugged my shoulders. Well, I thought, so much for that leftover popcorn!

Author's Notes: This little thing is actually based on a song from my piano lesson book called (you guessed it) "Leftover Popcorn". The song was so cute, though—it was really about just what this story is about, but definitely shortened up. ^_^ I also want to make it clear that the kid who narrates this story isn't necessarily seven years old anymore, nor did I specify gender. I did that on purpose to give it a more personal feel for everyone—basically whomever you imagined was perfectly okay by the description (or lack of it) I gave. I thought it was a nice touch. ^_^ That's pretty much all there is to say about this—I personally like it and think that these cute little anecdotes are, if not my best work, then definitely my favorite. Thanks for stopping by to read, I hope it was worth your while!! ~MJ

Date of Composition: February 16th, 2003