Deal at Dennys

I check my watch. 9:36. He was supposed to be here a half hour ago. Shit. He's probably being tailed.

I should probably explain. I won't though. It's much too complicated, and I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm not one of those sappy "here's my life story" types. If there's anything life's taught me, I'm aware you couldn't give a shit about me.

He's our client. I don't know his name, and I have no desire to find out. We've been switching areas to avoid suspicion because I can't deal with cops on my ass. He must be good too. He never drops any hints. So I'm sitting in a shithole Denny's way earlier than I'd want to be. Like who meets at 9? But he always pays up.

He's not clean. Almost everyone is a mess. Twitching eyes, constantly licking their lips. Those are the signs the true addicts have given up on hiding. He calls too often to be a cop. If he did would've been brought to the Sugar Distributer Penitentiary.

King Kandy is known for his generosity. Except to normies. If he knew I was selling off my special acid trip licorice I would be dead. I know, so cliche. Yeah.

My name is Raymond Licorice. Never did forgive Ma for that one. Of course. The bad guy, getting poor innocent souls hooked on sugar.

Come on. I live in a cave. I'm not exactly rolling in dough here.

The client sits down. As always, clad in long brown trench coat, double rows of black buttons gleam like diamonds. A mask obscures his face, a hood covers his hair. Good grief, he looks like a third-grader's idea of a secret agent. He comes with a briefcase. Grey, cheap. Good. We both know it must be untraceable. He's just some rich asshole hooked on the taffy. Oh well.

"One pack RedVines, 15 grams of the black swirls" He says.

Of course I am more than supplied. A whole pack of RedVines? For a normie that could knock him out for a week. I wonder if he suspects where I get the merchandise. I wonder if he knows that I am the Lord of Licorice himself. I doubt he even knows about Candyland.

"1800" I price

He looks equally nonchalant

"1400"

He drives a hard bargain. It costs me about 10 bucks but whatever he'll fall for.

Surprised? What else would I be dealing in? Gumdrops? King Kandy changed our currency after the Gumdrop Revolution III. Whoever he can fuck over he will. Especially his dear uncle Raymond and his Gran.

"1600 take it or leave it" I reply

He nods and passes over the briefcase.

I open it. Gotta check. I watch his expression. Then I notice. He's moving halfway through him. It's like his lower body is fighting with his top half. Addicts do strange things, but this shouldn't be possible for anyone but... Gloppy.

Fuck. I'm getting busted.

And by Gloppy? He wouldn't be able to find his Chocolate Swamp and he's attached to it. (Or maybe it's him?)(Honestly, I don't care enough to ask)

"Alright fine Gloppy. You caught me." I mutter, hoping to gain the brown blobs' mercy.

"What's gloppy?" asks Gloppy, in a strangely high nervous voice that doesn't resemble Gloppy's deep, mascotish, dumb chortle.

"Take off the coat!" I yell

Slowly he takes it off. What the fuck is happening? It's two kids , no older than 10, sitting on top of eachother. He- or should I say they, shrugs guiltily.

Fuck this. And that, dear reader, is why I no longer go to Dennys.

(Hey thanks for reading. This is my first attempt at doing an actual short story. It may get continued, it may not. )