It took a while, a whole summer to be exact, but the story finally made its way to the light - light he worked so hard to deny to so many. You suppose you should recap the night’s events in your own mind.

The darkness of the parking lot is only impeded by the bright-burning victorian style lampposts that line the sidewalks. You’re sitting, quietly gleeful, in your carseat while your family is inside attending a town meeting. All of a sudden, in the distance, you see it: the decrepit silhouette of the most hated man in town.

“I feel like celebrating!” you hear him triumphantly proclaim while gallivanting toward your row of cars. After all, why wouldn’t he feel on top of the world after executing his master plan to create a monopolistic energy empire?

Your eyes meet from across the way, and you can tell he recognizes you. This fills you with icicles, which coincide with the molten orb of opportunity that burns inside your stomach.

“Oh it’s you, what are you so happy about?” he mutters, seemingly jolted awake from this waking dream he’s been indulging in.

The lollipop. You can tell from the lustful glint in his eye that it’s the one thing in this town he knows he can’t have, and the firm grip of desire has enfolded him. But, really, who’s going to stop him now?

“I see.”

You can tell you’re past the point of no return already. His insatiable instinct won’t allow this to end any other way. His lips confirm what his eyes have already said.

“I think you better drop it.”

Everything past this declaration of dominance becomes a blur. He reaches out to grab the forbidden fruit (this time, a green apple), and the struggle ends as quickly as it begins as his trusty Smith and Wesson revolver falls gracefully, as if guided by a divine power, into your toddling fingers. The bang hurts your ears, and the pistol falls to the floor.

He stumbles away, stricken, but you know whether he lives or dies, this is only the beginning.