February 2, 2009
Movie Night Candy Mystery
At night after the boys all go to bed I lurk around the house in search of a box of Butterfinger Bites. It's my "movie night" candy.
Every week we try to schedule a special movie night where all the family members get their own cool and special package of candy and Julius picks a great movie for the whole family to watch. Last week the movie was acquired and the candy obtained.
Unfortunately, due to a technical snafu we can't watch the movie. More precisely, our television is AWOL -- it decided a couple of weeks ago to spontaneously turn itself on and off as if motivated by a poltergeist that hates the History Channel and Noggin. A man came and took our TV away and it hasn't been back since and I don't think anyone got a receipt, so I'm hoping he really was the repairman.
As I think back, though, this seems to be the latest thing in a long line of failing things around our house, the list of which includes the outlet that powers our garbage disposal, half the light bulbs in the kitchen and 3/4 of the light bulbs in the bathroom, our water filter, the VCR in the bedroom, a lamp in the living room, one picture frame that the toddler broke in half with his bare hands, and a non-slip bath rug that is now slipping. I wonder how many of those can be explained by a poltergeist.
But back to the movie night candy...
Because we haven't been able to watch the movie night movie, Rob and Julius have been haphazardly grazing on their respective candies. Mine was lying on the kitchen table mixed in with some laundry that had been folded but not put away yet. The corner of the yellow box peeked out from under a stack of towels. As their candy stores dwindled I was really happy that my own candy was still there, hanging out, waiting for the movie night candy massacre that would surely come at a time when I really needed it.
Well, that day was about four days ago and I went back into the kitchen to retrieve that delectable box of Butterfinger Bites and, wouldn't you know, it was gone. Just gone. No sign of it. No empty box in the trash. No trail of crumbs leading to a lip-smacking perp. Nothing. Just gone. Gone as if abducted by Area 51 aliens and taken to a lab in space where they would be hooked up to electrodes and experimented on. Gone, as if I had eaten them myself in a hormone-induced feeding frenzy that takes place in a dark closet so nobody would notice that I'm eating every single piece of food in the house. Gone, as if they had never existed in the first place.
After a day of looking for them, I asked my husband, "Hey, um... did you eat my movie night candy?" I asked casually as if I didn't really care much about it.
"No," he said. That was it. Just no.
"Did you put it somewhere?"
"No," he said. "Not that I remember."
There's the trick, you see. He has a notoriously bad memory which conveniently absolves him of most sins.
So, for the last three nights after the boys go to bed I walk quietly through the house looking for this box of candy. I do it quietly as if I will somehow sneak up on it, as if the results of my search will turn out more favorable this way. It's ridiculous. I searched the new pantry to where we have moved all the canned goods. I have searched where we keep candy. I have searched where we don't keep candy. I looked in the fridge. I have done this for three nights straight.
Tonight I found myself talking about it as I was doing it.
"Okay, here I am looking in the pantry. This makes no sense. If they didn't eat it, where would it be? They ate it. They had to have eaten it. Looking in the bread basket. Looking in the candy canister. Man, there's nothing good in here. Looking in the ... Oh, a moldy avocado. Okay, THAT'S no good."
The good news is the moldy avocado is now in the trash. The bad news is I still haven't found the candy and I've run out of places to look. And now I'm eating the remains of a jar of Vlasic Kosher Dill Spears which are tasty, but not a really great substitute for peanut butter and chocolate.
On the other hand, it just occurred to me that maybe Butterfinger Bites might have been on the recall list and could this mystery be caused by my guardian angel? Do I even have a guardian angel? (Because if so, I want a review of my case file.)
Or maybe those boys are playing a dirty trick on me and when they say they are going into the room to tell stories before bed they are really stuffing their faces with some awesome snacks at Mommy's expense.
Damn them and their diabolical schemes of greed and selfishness! As soon as I finish this last pickle I'm going to look under the bed. Maybe I will find an empty box there. Or in the bread machine. I'm sure I've not checked there yet.