The small candies poured into the thin plastic bag as he slowly tipped the scoop. The little boy grinned as the bag filled. The candy shop owner gently twisted the bag shut and placed it in the little boy’s hands. “This one’s on me,” he said. He stood by his stool as he watched the boy walk out. He closed the jar and wondered what he would make next.
Later that night, he wondered what candy he should make. He hurriedly ran to his large stockroom and grabbed a large bag of sugar. He poured the sugar into a large brass kettle and began to stir it. He added various colors and flavors, making the perfect sweet treat. He knew exactly what to add so that he would end with the best candies. The most important step was making sure he didn’t add too much of the formula. As the thick mixture bubbled, he opened a package of thick wax paper wrappers and laid them out carefully on a sheet.
The children kept coming back every day. They wanted more and more sweets and it seemed like they couldn’t stop eating them. The candy shop owner was worried. He knew he had put too much in. Children couldn’t handle the strength of the liquid. He rushed to lock the large glass doors in the front of the shop.
He rushed to the back of the shop and checked the meter. It was still low. He breathed a sigh of relief as he knew that it hadn’t spread far. The vials of the thick green liquid steamed on the large shelf behind him. They might have to be used if it spread too far. The night was young, and so he shut off the lights and locked the rusty handle.
Shattered glass was spewed across the floor of the dark hallway. The doors to the shop were demolished. He went to the storeroom to check that all the small, glowing red-orange candies were still there. They were his newest and best creation. Critics described them as an ‘undescribable delicacy that should be relished.’ He ripped the thick canvas cloth off the top of the pile. The large mound of spheres was gone except for one. The last sphere was glowing brightly, so he knew they hadn’t all been consumed. Gently, he bagged the small orb in a thick cloth sack, and placed it into the large steel black safe in the back of the shop. This was the fifth creation that had been stolen. His formula must be off.
A few days later, he made a slew of fresh candies. He made sure that he had as many orange spheres as his shelves could hold. As he dumped them by the thousands onto the massive vat, he breathed a sigh of relief. The stockpile outweighed the amount that had been taken, and the sales were soon to skyrocket. He needed to prepare for the surge.
When he walked into the small, cold shop the next morning, he was greeted by hundreds of small, excited children and their tired, annoyed parents, many still in their pajamas. He quickly gathered a large scoop and a box of plastic bags.
He opened the doors, and the customers flooded inside. The candies were selling, and his strategy was working. He had made a successful formula. As his greed built, he thought of what he would make next. That night, as he sat in his thread bare rocking chair, it came to him. This time, though, he decided not to use any of the formula. He had to think of a new incentive to get people to devour his candies. He sat and thought all night, while his mind raced about what the next big thing would be.
He had finally come up with it. Chocolate bars. Selling them at a high price would give him the money he so much desired, and people would be so drawn into wanting to buy the bars. Five lucky children would get a special tour of his enormous factory, but only if they got one of the five mysteriously placed shiny, golden tickets inside the thick chocolate bar’s wrappings. The plan was foolproof, and everyone would want to see what really made his candies just that special.
As his sales grew, he knew he couldn’t keep up with the demand. The orders were coming in too fast. As he rushed to make the sticky chocolatey substance, he knew he had to give up. The pounding on the doors for the sweets was growing louder and louder, and he could see the mob outside his shop demanding his candies.
He knew there wouldn’t be long, and he knew he had to leave. As he hurriedly packed his important tools, he began to hear the cries of the small children growing closer and closer. He grabbed his special formula and a bag of the glowing orange orbs and ran for the exit, but it was too late. As the sugar hungry children drew nearer, he knew he had made a dreadful mistake. It was all over, and it was all his fault. Who could have imagined the damage that five golden tickets could have done to him?