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
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