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David disappeared after we got home from school.
“Hey David, where are you?”
“I’m in here.”
His voice came from Mom and Dad’s bedroom. I stopped at their doorway and discovered David lying across their bed. Not usually much of a reader, he seemed deeply engrossed in a stack of Playboy magazines.
Dad thought hiding his stash on top of a wide beam in the ceiling would be safe. Dad didn’t know how thorough we were. I flipped through a couple of issues and quickly realized why they’d been hidden.
I left David to his reading. My detective skills had unearthed a much better hidden treasure.
In the bottom of Dad’s sock drawer was a box of Turtles; gooey yummy chocolate-covered caramel and pecan candies. I preferred soft jelly candies, but seldom had any. Mom and Dad’s secret turtles made a great substitute.
Each day, I unearthed the box and nibbled a leg off each piece. It drove me crazy that my parents, knowing their candy was within reach each night, never ate it.
The Turtles soon lost a second appendage, and before long resembled flat chocolate lumps incapable of movement.
With all their legs removed, I was forced to savor an immobile body. Of course, Mom and Dad’s sweet tooth reactivated that night and they discovered the Turtle carnage. It wasn’t my fault some people take too long to eat their candy.
There were three possible culprits residing in the house, but only one likely suspect. Mom and Dad immediately zeroed in on me without stopping to ask who ate their candy.
What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Not that I was all that innocent.
“What were you doing in my sock drawer in the first place?” asked Dad.
There was no winning answer to such an incriminating question, so I side-stepped it.
“There’s still a few left,” I said.
Dad waved a Turtle piece in front of Mom. “Look at this. She ate all around the edges.”
They didn’t offer to share their remaining Turtle lumps and I didn’t ask for any. If they bought a replacement box, then they found a lot better hiding place.
I later hid candy from my own children, but not in my sock drawer.
Lesson learned: I should have taken the entire box. They might have thought they’d eaten it themselves and just forgot.
Related Story: Chapter Three: Turtle Thief
Now it’s your turn: Did a turtle ever tempt you?
© Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures, 2012 forward. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.