Flakes, Falling Like Guys

Flakes, chapter 9

"Someone does not want me to see what's on the other side."

Carlo was so heated with anger he did not mind the wind pressing against his body or the snowflakes hitting his face. He could not believe what he had just witnessed. "That one is more interested in games than anything else."

The snow was no match for Carlo's sturdy feet, and he stepped through it as if it were cotton. He became angrier as he walked. His anger continued to brew as he walked. "As if video games were not bad enough, he's also playing kissing games with that . . . that . . . that long-haired hooligan. What will the neighbors think?"

He was too worked up to relax and too angry to let go of his hurt thoughts, so they just stewed in his mind as he walked home.

Meanwhile, across town, Angelo stood before what must have been brownest and dirtiest door he had ever seen. It was disappointing to find the door so unwelcoming, for he had to walk through trash strewn, dirty, and dark streets to get here. As if that was not bad enough, he had to walk all the way around the back of the large building to find the door.

"When you see the loading docks, keep walking until you see a dumpster. There, directly behind the dumpster is the door this key will open." Thus far, Angelo had found exactly what Giacomo had said he would.

Angelo could smell the dumpster before finding the door, so he knew he was close. It smelled foul. Giacomo was surely not joking when he said the door was right behind the dumpster. It was so close there was barely room for him to fit behind it.

He found himself wishing he had not eaten so many seaweed crackers for lunch, for he would be thinner now. As it was, he had a hard time squeezing his body between the dumpster and the building to access the door. Clearly, he was bigger than the usual person Giacomo sent to this space.

It was hard to see behind the dumpster, for there was barely any light, but Angelo thought he could see the outline of a door. He scrunched his nose until little lines appeared between his eyes. "That dumpster smells so foul. What could be in it? Whatever it is that dumpster smells like it has not been emptied for ages."

It was so dark that Angelo doubted the door actually stood before him, so he felt for it. He felt along the grimy wall until he found a doorknob. Sliding his hand higher, he found the deadbolt. It felt sticky to the touch. This further disappointed him, but he tried to make the best of things. "Oh, well," he thought, "as long as this door opens to a safe, warm place I will be happy."

Opening the door, Angelo reached inside and flipped the switch he was told he would find there. He was grateful for the light, if less so for what it illuminated. There before him stood a narrow room, which was more like a short hallway. It was just wide enough to allow for a cot to fit along one wall and a makeshift shelf against the other. Was that a page of sheet music on the shelf?

The cot and the shelf allowed the hallway to masquerade as a room, but it was, as Giacomo said it would be, a place to sleep free from the snowy sky. It was as much as Giacomo had promised and as little as Angelo had expected. There was at least a bed and a shelf for whatever sat in his pockets, but there was no denying this was really just a hallway leading to another door, which looked cleaner than the first.

This stirred Angelo's interest. If this side of the second door was just okay, maybe the other side was better. Stepping forward, he reached for the doorknob. He was in luck. It was unlocked, so he pulled it open—clang!

The door opened but only part way. It was chained from the other side! This was a very curious turn of events.

Stepping onto the city block before his apartment, Carlo failed to find the generally cheery square pleasing. All the usual things were there—the people, the children, the chestnuts, and the cherries—but, he was not feeling like his usual self.

He walked by one of the familiar stalls in the square. It was really just a cart an old woman had wheeled into the square to sell her goods. This one was full of ginjinha shots being served in little chocolate cups.

Carlo loved the sour cherry liquor, and he especially liked it when it was served in chocolate cups. He would usually buy one to celebrate his returning home and eat it like a hungry locust.

Afterwards, he would wonder how the chocolate cup was so creamy yet so sturdy, for the old women always made their own chocolate cups. One day, he would learn their secret for his business, but today, as his anger melted, he realized he was too sad to care.

Instead of celebrating his return home, Carlo simply turned and walked toward his apartment building with his head hanging low. There would be no cherry-chocolate shot for him today.

Angelo pushed and pushed, but the chain prevented the door from opening all the way. Inspecting the chain, he realized it was not going to give way. This left an opening that an average sized person could not fit through. As he realized this, Angelo smiled. "It's a good thing that I am anything but average."

He lowered his head beneath the chain and pressed his shoulder into the opening. "That's the good thing about being thin." His shoulder hurt as it squeezed between the door and the door frame. "Oh, why did I have to eat so many seaweed crackers today?"

Despite his fretting, he was successful, for his shoulder was already through the opening. "If I exhale just a bit more, I can be thinner yet, and with just a bit of will power I will be the thinnest ever!" Just as he finished his thought, his body slipped through the opening. Standing up on the other side he found himself staring into a chocolate factory.

If his eyes held any doubt about what he was seeing, his nose confirmed where he was at once, for he could smell chocolate all around him. This was the chocolate factory that Giacomo ran.

To his left stood several machines and behind them sat large vats of melted, creamy chocolate. He could smell its sweetness and feel its gentle heat pressing against his face.

Before him was a sea of work tables. Their surfaces were neatly cluttered with chocolate making tools. On them he saw everything from thermometers and funnels to palette knifes and metal scraping tools. There he also saw dipping forks, metal tongs, and combs with many kinds of teeth for smoothing and decorating chocolate surfaces.

There were shelves behind the tables. They held all kinds of chocolate molds. Angelo wiggled his nose and laughed as he saw they were variously shaped like flowers, eggs, birds, bunnies, and bears. But, he said not to see his favorite animal of all—otters.

And, throughout all he surveyed, there were serpentine conveyor belts. They moved out from the vats, wound around the machines, and twisted through the tables before disappearing into the walls beyond.

There was too much to take it at once and so much yet to explore, but before Angelo could step to do so, he saw another work area to his right. It was closed off by thick, purple velvet curtains, and there was a sign overhead. "Adults only beyond this point the authorities!"

Pretending to take a slow, long sip of holy water, he smiled mischievously before walking through the curtain. 

Studies show, people who vote for "Flakes" fight off colds better!

A question:

Would you rather have a cherry liqueur shot or a tiny cherry muffin?