The Popcorn Colonel

by Toni Anderson

  “Popcorn Man!” said William with a big grin.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Discovery of Stock Om

  Once the door closed, they realized that they were inside the same storeroom they had been in a few hours ago.

  “We found the back door,” William told Marie.

  “Well, of course you did,” the little popcorn person said. “Didn’t think there would be just one way in and one way out, did ya?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that, Popcorn Man,” William said.

  “Oh, all right, I have had just about enough of this popcorn man nonsense. I do have a proper name you know, Mayor Cornelius Buttercup; and I am the Colonel’s right-hand man. Attention! general Pop-ulation, you can come out.”

  Just then, the Mayor made a request.

  “Would the greeting committee please join me on the town square? We have two special guests to give the Grand Tour to. Scribe, write this down in the Colonel’s Kernel Journal so we can report this to him,” the mayor said to his assistant. A happy little popcorn person wearing brown trousers, a white shirt, and a red bow tie hopped over and stood with a great sense of pride beside the Mayor. He was paying close attention and taking notes as he pushed his glasses up on his nose a bit more. His name was Scribe because it was his duty to record the events that happened in Stock om.

  An old red and white striped popcorn tub sitting in the far corner of the room erupted with a multitude of POP POP POPs as dozens of popcorn kernels popped out, landed on the floor, and took off in every direction. Some of the smaller popcorn just stared at William and Marie, but the Mayor told them to run along; they did. A cheerful popcorn lady bopped over toward William and Marie. She was wearing a little dress the color of corn silk. In fact, Marie was convinced that corn silk was what it was made of. She had little swirls of what looked to be pink cotton candy on the top of her head.

  “Welcome to Stock om,” the popcorn lady said. “Thanks for popping in!”

  Marie’s eyes sparkled and she was grinning from ear to ear because she was happy to see her new friend again. “How cute! I love your town’s name, Stalk home…. Did you name it after corn stalks? Is this your corn stalk home?”

  William rolled his eyes. “Really? Marie, did you just say that?” He could not believe she was this excited over the name of the town. He didn’t know that most of Marie’s excitement was due to being back with the popcorn people.

  The Mayor interrupted, “Cornstalk Home? No, no. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Stock om. You must have seen our town’s name on the door.”

  William thought for a brief bit. He had been practicing paying attention to the details, and it was about to pay off in a big way.

  “OH!” he said laughing, unable to control himself. He looked at Marie and whispered to her.

  “I bet it used to say ‘Stock Room,’ but two of the letters are missing, The R and the first O of room. Stock om, get it?”

  Marie beamed, “That’s it.”

  “So, how about that tour?” the Mayor said.

  “We came to find Mr. Z.,” Marie said. “I’m so sorry, Mayor; we just don’t have time to take a tour right now. Tell him, Will; we need to focus on finding Mr. Zuckerwatte,” she said as she elbowed him. “We’re running out of time; he could be in trouble.”

  All of a sudden, Marie’s face had a look of realization. She had just figured something out. Her mouth was open and her eyes were bright as she exclaimed, “Mr. Zuckerwatte is the Colonel, isn’t he?” Marie looked down at the little Mayor standing on a red bottle cap.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Mayor’s Explanation

  “Yes!” he said. “I was hoping you would sort that out. I swore to never reveal his secret; but now that you have figured it out on your own, we can get to work.”

  Marie’s forehead crinkled, “Is he in trouble?”

  “I believe so,” the Mayor said.

  “Do you know where he is?” William asked.

  The Mayor told her that he might be locked in the projection room.

  “I heard something clanking around in there during the movie earlier, but the door was locked,” Marie told the Mayor.

  He informed the children that he had not said anything to the Pop-ulation yet because he did not want to get them worked up. Marie had assumed that the rest of the popcorn living here was the Pop-ulation.

  “You mentioned that you don’t have time for the tour, but you do have quite a bit of time to find your Mr. Z. It appears that the two of you have not realized that as long as you are both wearing the glasses, time is at a standstill.”

  “Oh no, Mayor Buttercup, we do know that, we figured it out earlier. The baseball team told us during the movie,” said Marie.

  “Did they now?” questioned the Mayor. His little cheeks reddened in fury, “Scribe, please note that the baseball team left Stock om today.”

  “Oh my, I didn’t mean to get anyone into trouble.” Marie was devastated. The Mayor took no notice and carried on with his speech.

  “Where was I?” asked Mayor Buttercup.

  “The um, the glasses, sir and time….” sputtered out Scribe.

  “Ah yes, indeed, the glasses. That, my friend, is how you are able to see us. For instance, if just one pair is being worn, time slows by half. You see, we are quick and stealthy. Everyone can in fact see us, even without the glasses. But we are so fast when we move that even when there is just one of us, it looks to you like there are several of us around. “

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean Mayor Cornelius,” said William.

  “For example. You see a piece of popcorn on the floor by the concession stand, and then when you walk to the ticket taker you see another piece on the floor by the theater door. You assume you’ve seen two different pieces of popcorn, but you are incorrect. It was the same one both times. We also have to be quick to avoid getting swept up. We blend in well with the environment because there are also decoys lying around everywhere already.

  “They aren’t decoys though; it’s just regular popcorn. Besides, wouldn’t someone notice that you are dressed in costumes?” asked Marie.

  “It’s just a trick of the light, a reflection if you will. The glasses as well as the monocle filter the light. Otherwise, we look just like the regular popcorn. It’s brilliant! Go ahead try it. Take off the glasses and see what happens.”

  When they did, the Stock om looked like any old forgotten stockroom. The scuttlebutt of little popcorn people had stopped, and it was quiet and still. Marie was eager to learn more, but William was no longer paying attention to the conversation. He was looking around the room in complete disbelief. He knelt down examining abandoned popcorn pieces scattered on the floor. He was just about to pick one up when Marie stopped him.

  “Will, time is ticking, we need to put the glasses back on and get to work,” Marie reminded him.

  With the glasses back on and Stock om back to life, the Mayor noticed how fascinated William was with all of the commotion in the town. He decided to use that to his advantage and encouraged the two children to go ahead and take the tour. If time really was on pause, what would harm would it do to explore this new world? They followed Mrs. Buttercup as she led them to the back of the movie screen. It was a bit of a slow pace; she took around one hundred steps every time the children took one.

  “This is the town square,” she informed William and Marie like a tour guide.

  The popcorn of Stock om was certainly full of energy and merriment. A quick glance around the room made it easy to tell one group from another. Not only did each area look like a tiny movie set, but movie posters were also scattered around. Mrs. Buttercup told them that each one of the posters was inspiration to help the new coming popcorn to decide where they best fit in the little town of Stock om. She told them that they get seven new townspeople each year. The more the childre
n learned about Stock om, the more questions they had. Mrs. Buttercup told them that when a movie plays, they all gather on the town square to watch it. She explained how the image is reversed, but it did not make much of a difference to them because that is how they always watched. They were used to it. She stood still, lingering with stars in her eyes as she gazed at the big screen. She snapped out of it when she heard the Mayor clearing his throat in an effort to keep her focused. Mrs. Buttercup fluffed her cotton candy hair and dashed along, her corn silk dress swishing, the elation about the tour overtaking her once more.

  “We are about to encounter a wide variety of characters. Some are always instrumental in missions for the Colonel in the Land of the Lost Pops. Others never have to leave the safety of Stock om.”

  “What’s the Land of the Lost Pops?” asked William.

  “Anything outside the boundaries of Stock om,” said Mrs. Buttercup quietly. With that, she led them to the first stop.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Special Forces

  A movie poster in a Now Showing frame with a few broken bulbs advertised “Boot Camp for Charlie Company.” The poster was an obstacle course with a pair of muddy army boots standing at attention. The area was arranged with old candy display shelves that the Pop-ulation used for their sleeping barracks. William knelt down and got a closer look at a small movie reel onto which they had installed straws for a Gatling gun. A cache of small hot cinnamon flavored candies was waiting in a paper snow cone cup to be funneled into the gun to be fired when ready.

  Stout popcorn soldiers were marching around. They were the Special Forces. They were wearing camouflage uniforms made from bits of old candy wrappers. It looked like they had bullet-proof vests made from movie ticket stubs and were in the middle of a cadence.

  Left, left, left, right left

  We are the special op

  We know how to pop

  Why did the Pop Op cross the road?

  To pop from the left to the right

  To the left right left….

  They marched to the beat of the Special Op Pop, who led the way in the front of the line and was drumming on a little pearl snap button with two halves of a toothpick. They marched in a distinct pattern around their base.

  “Hello Sergeant!” Mrs. Buttercup said, giving her best salute. “It’s my pleasure to introduce you to William and Marie. I’ve been waiting all year to give another tour and today, I have given two. First to the New Pops and now to these children. I have to say it’s quite a pleasure.”

  The Sergeant narrowed his eyes as he looked at the children and then gave a questioning look to the Mayor, who just nodded his head as if to say, “it’s okay.” The Sergeant turned back toward the children with his hands behind his back and addressed them sounding off like a drill Sergeant.

  “Children! I am the Special Forces Sergeant. My men call me Ol’ Half-Popped because I have been with the Colonel from the beginning. I have been on seventy-seven missions and have popped and un-popped so many times that sometimes I don’t pop back all the way. I think of it as a battle scar.”

  “Wow, cool! What kind of missions have you been on?” William asked.

  The Sergeant snapped his heels. “That is top secret, private! Until you have full clearance from the Colonel, I will not divulge that information.”

  William frowned in disappointment. He wondered to himself how he could get clearance, and what that meant.

  “It was so nice to meet you, Sergeant,” Marie said.

  “Call me Ol’ Half-Popped,” he replied. “But don’t expect any preferential treatment outta me without the proper credentials and verification of your authorization to be in Stock om from the Colonel.” He turned and marched away, falling in line with the other soldiers to the beat of the cadence.

  “This way, children,” Mrs. Buttercup said.

  Ol’ Half-Popped halted the marching soldiers. He stood stiff at attention with his back to the children and Mrs. Buttercup. “This is against protocol!” he said, clearly disappointed with the children’s being given a tour of Stock om. He puffed up his chest, and his chin jutted forward. “Double time; march!”

  The soldiers departed after picking up the pace and soon disappeared around their barracks.

  “I don’t think he likes us very much,” said Marie.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Wild West

  A mostly orange-colored popcorn ducked into a door cut into an upside-down soda cup as Mrs. Buttercup shuffled along. He had been watching the kids since they arrived. They were quite intriguing, and he had been following them, keeping in the shadows. They arrived at the next poster, which was for a Wild West movie called “The Dusty Cowboys’ Silver Spurs.” The poster was of an old ghost town with a couple of horses tied up to the hitching post. Off in the distance, the sun was setting.

  Mrs. Buttercup dipped into a curtsy. “Well, howdy, y’all,” she said with a southern drawl.

  The cowboys sauntered over led by their leader, Pop-Along Cassidy. Following close behind him was his scout and tracker, Indian Corn. As he approached, the children heard the faint sound of the cowboys’ spurs ringing: ching-ching ching-ching. Mrs. Buttercup told the children that Pop-Along and Indian Corn met at the Battle of Little Big Corn. Pop-Along stepped forward and spoke up in a thick accent.

  “Well, how do ya do, Ms. Buttercup? We been hearin’ strange things round these parts, somethin’ ‘bout the Colonel gone missin’ and such. Indian Corn here says he heard some sort of clankin’ sound comin’ from up yonder way by that room with the big lantern. Indian Corn is keepin’ his ear to the ground, ma’am.” He nodded and tipped his dusty hat, his thumbs looped over his chaps.

  “Thank you, Pop-Along, the Mayor appreciates it,” she replied.

  A chuckle came from behind a lint ball that closely resembled a tumbleweed, and out popped the orange-colored popcorn, whose name was Larry. He was quite a cheesy looking fellow.

  He held up one hand. “Hey, all you buckaroos and cowpokes!” he said. “What kind of guns does Pop-Along Cassidy shoot?”

  An audible groan from the cowboys could be heard as Indian Corn covered his face. Larry was telling another one of his corny jokes. Pop-Along said he was a real cheese dip, but Mrs. Buttercup humored him and replied, “I don’t know Larry; what kind of guns does Pop-Along like to shoot?”

  Larry gestured with both hands as if he were shooting pistols into the air. Raising one hand after the other, he hollered “POW POW POW! Pop Guns!” With a serious face, he blew on the tips of his fingers; then he holstered his imaginary guns on his hips as if to say that was a good joke, and now it is finished. He turned and moseyed off with his dog.

  “Come on, Corn Dog; let’s get a long, little doggie,” he said.

  Mrs. Buttercup informed the children that Larry found his dog one day in a pile of trash that had spilled out from the can when someone knocked it over. He loved his corn dog. He had rescued it from the rubbish. He liked to tell everyone how he got the pick of the “litter.” He thought he was perfect. Although he did not fetch his stick, he did carry it around with him everywhere he went.

  Not for the first time today, Marie was in complete shock. “He is dragging around an actual mini-corndog on a stick, and he thinks it a real dog.”

  She was laughing hysterically. As she tried to catch her breath, she looked around at Pop- Along’s Popcorn Posse. It was made up of about a handful of popcorn. They were wearing clothes like any real cowboy would wear. Each one had a little cowboy hat on. Indian Corn’s was sort of red in color and had a colorful headband with a feather, pants, and moccasins. Marie was almost positive they were made from pocket lint. Indian Corn did not say one word; he just gave a wave.

  Another movie poster was lying face up on the floor with a view of the Grand Canyon. A short section of old green velvet rope hung between two bronze posts that were n
ormally used to show people where a line forms. The rope was hanging over the poster, and several of the Popcorn Posse where making the death-defying tightrope walk over the massive canyon.

  Mrs. Buttercup crossed her arms, “I know where you fellas are off to. Every last one of you is heading over that canyon to go get some root beer from Soda Pop Falls.”

  Soda Pop Falls was an old soda machine that was sitting on a table. If you were a piece of popcorn, the only way you could reach it was to walk up the disconnected velvet rope and onto the connecting rope. One by one, each popcorn cowboy hopped onto the table from the rope with a yee haw. They were climbing onto one another’s shoulders to reach the dispensary lever. The cowboys clearly had one thing on their minds: root beer. They tipped their hats to the kids and carried on over the canyon.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Littlefield of Dreams

  The arched sign above the entrance said “Littlefield of Dreams.” A movie poster did not hang on the wall here; it was on the floor like the poster of the Grand Canyon. The poster was the bird’s eye view of a baseball field, and the bleachers were built around it. A game was already in progress, and the score was tied. William and Marie recognized the popcorn baseball players immediately from earlier that day as the ones that had snuck out to watch the movie. The players were focused and intent as the batter swung and missed. Out in the bleachers to the left side of the field, a voice yelled out. Larry raised his arms up and down, “Let’s get the wave going!” Surprisingly, the crowd joined in, even Corn Dog, who was on a short leash attached to Larry’s arm.

  Mrs. Buttercup gave a deep sigh. “That’s Larry for ya.”

  On the next pitch, the batter hit a deep drive into center field. Willy Maize turned and ran for the ball. Then, with an amazing history making over-the-shoulder catch, the batter was out, and the inning was over. Since Willy’s team was the Home Team, they got the last turn at bat. It was the bottom of the ninth inning, and Willy headed for the plate. He took a few warm up swings and was ready for the first pitch. He tapped the end of the baseball bat on his cleats. He fouled the first pitch and then dug in and got ready for the next pitch, just like he had seen on the movie that day. The pitcher threw a curve ball. It was a swing and a miss. The umpire yelled strike two, and the pitcher slapped the ball in his glove and went back to the mound. He went into his wind up and then fired the ball toward the plate. This time, Willy hit the ball. Someone in the outfield yelled out “can of corn.” He thought it was a pop fly and that he had time to set up camp. However, the ball just kept on soaring right over his head and out of the park.