From his basement prison, Clayton heard his captor cheerfully greeting trick or treaters. He thought of screaming for help, but knew it wouldn’t do any good.
In short order, Professor Koenig came loudly down the wooden steps – loudly to Clayton’s ears. Soon, the professor opened the ceiling of the prison: A medium-sized cardboard box. He looked down at his six-inch-tall prisoner and smiled. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“Like you care!” Clayton replied in a voice just a tiny bit louder than the average mouse. “Why did you do this to me?”
“Opportunity knocked,” Koenig replied. “When I saw you asleep on that park bench, I thought, ‘Here’s the man who can help me with my plan.’”
“What ‘plan?’” the prisoner angrily inquired.
“Have you ever heard of Dr. Richard Carlson?”
“I think so. Isn’t he a. . . a plastic surgeon?”
“Yes, and a very wealthy one,” Koenig replied. “He just bought his wife an expensive diamond ring featuring one of the largest stones ever unearthed in the mines of South Africa.”
“And?” the diminutive man prompted the full-sized one.
“I want it. Carlson wronged me in the past. I will teach him a lesson by hurting the woman he loves.”
“How does this involve me?”
“You’re going to get the ring for me.”
Clayton chuckled. “I am?”
“With your new height – or lack thereof – you can easily take it from their home and bring it here.”
“How do you expect me to get into their house?”
“In this,” Koenig responded, holding up an empty (and very carefully opened) fun-sized Milky Way wrapper. “Their little girl, Juliet, always trick or treats here. You will be her treat.” He put the wrapper on the table. His face turned angry. “Her father does not remember me. Imagine!”
“Are you sure he wronged you?”
“Positive!” Koenig exclaimed.
“What’s in this for me?”
“Once I have the ring, I will return you to your normal size and bid you farewell. Without my help, you will spend the rest of your days as you are.” The professor paused for effect and asked, “Well, Mr. Clayton?”
“I’m thinking,” he answered, pacing his cardboard prison.
“This is a limited-time offer. I expect the child to be here in approximately 30 minutes.”
“What if I refuse?”
“I. . . ‘recruited’ you for this purpose,” Professor Koenig explained. “If you decide not to participate, I will have no reason to let you live and bear witness against me.”
###
Koenig was impressed at how well he had sealed the wrapper. “Are you comfortable?” he asked Clayton.
“Swell,” his captive answered sarcastically through one of the air holes the professor had made. The wrapper crinkled with his every word.
“You won’t be in there long. The Carlsons don’t allow their daughter to trick or treat beyond this neighborhood.”
“Good. It’s stuffy in here.”
Koenig took the wrapper from the table and admired his work. “A remarkable job.”
“Martha Stewart would be proud.”
“You can get out by tearing at the air holes,” Koenig told his prisoner. “I assume Mrs. Carlson keeps the ring in the master bedroom in a jewelry box.”
“What if she’s wearing it?”
“Then wait until they retire,” the professor told him. “She’s certain to take it off then.”
“Won’t it be kind of. . . heavy for me to carry?”
“You’ll manage. After all, that ring means everything to you.”
###
Juliet was thrilled at her Halloween haul. “Look at all my candy, Daddy!” she said excitedly, pointing at the orange bowl on the kitchen table.
“You got a lot,” her dad replied.
“I worked for it. I rang all those bells!” She rubbed her little hands together in anticipation. “Can I eat it now? Can I?”
Carlson stuck a hand into the bowl and let the candy run through his fingers. “No. Tomorrow. It’s almost time for. . . Oh, dear.”
“What?”
He pulled a Milky Way from the bowl. “There’s a tear in the wrapper. It may have been tampered with.”
“What’s ‘tampered’ mean?”
“It means that you shouldn’t eat it. It wouldn’t taste good, and it could make you sick.” The doctor handed his little girl – still in her princess costume – the suspect bar. “Why don’t you go put this in the kitchen trash barrel, sweetie? Then we’ll start getting you ready for bed.”
# # #
Juliet whistled a happy tune as she entered the kitchen. Her little hand was wrapped so tightly about the trash-bound Milky Way bar that Clayton could not escape. He called to her as loudly as he could, but she did not hear his tiny voice.
The whistling excited her black lab, Scamp, who walked towards her, barking and jumping. “Get down!” she told the pup. “This isn’t a doggie treat.” At the very second Juliet opened the barrel’s lid, Scamp snatched the candy bar from her. Clayton’s screams of horror were muffled as the dog’s sharp teeth tore him to bits. “Scamp, you bad girl! Chocolate isn’t for doggies. You’ll get sick!” she chastised the dog. “Daddy!”
Mr. Carlson quickly entered the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Scamp took the candy bar. She grabbed it out of my hand.”
“Are you OK?” her father asked, turning her hand in his and giving it a good look.
“I’m fine.”
“Scamp looks fine too,” Carlson continued, confused. “I guess nothing was wrong with that Milky Way after all.”
“So I could have eaten it?”
“Yes.”
“Darn! That was my favorite kind.”
Carlson stroked his daughter’s long hair, jostling her tiara a bit as he did so. “You have plenty more,” he told her. “It was only a candy bar.”
# # #
For several years, Mike Murphy has been primarily an author of audio plays. He has had over 150 of them produced in the U.S. and overseas, many for Audible. In 2016, he won a Moondance International Film Festival award for my TV pilot script “The Bullying Squad” and a semi-finalist award for his audio play “The Forever Pill.” Read more here: audioauthor.blogspot.com
