On a perfect autumn day, eight-year-old Roger wandered around the fall
festival looking for chocolate candy. Fudge- only peanut butter and pumpkin.
Pretzels covered with yogurt glaze. Then the salty, buttery smell of popcorn
lured him to the free popcorn machine. As his bag filled slowly, he read the
sign on the tall booth to his right.
The
Million-to-One Machine One ticket in a million
grants wishes. Will it be yours?
Eating popcorn, he looked at the machine in the glass case – large and
small gears, brass pipes, pulleys, and more. He pulled a quarter from his left
pocket and made his wish.
"I wish I always had some candy in my pocket," he said, and
pushed the coin in the slot.
The machine woke with a shiver. A heavy brass flywheel quietly began to
hum, putting gears and levers into motion, then
returning to a quiet stillness.
“Broken,” Roger thought and began to turn away. A ticking like a
heartbeat began quietly, getting louder. Then all sorts of machinery began to
clatter, clink, and whir until a chain rattled, jerked up a lever and a bell
rang. A ticket slowly slid out of the machine.
The Million-to-One-Machine. One ticket in a million
grants wishes. On the back in small print was “Keep this ticket. You’ll know when
you no longer need it.”
Roger tucked it in his pocket and felt another quarter; however, what he
got was a small peppermint patty. As he shook his head, surprised at his
forgetfulness, his left pocket got slightly heavy. He extracted a peanut butter
cup and a Tootsie Roll. After he ate them, his left pocket still felt heavy
while the right pocket held only his school ID and candy wrappers.
And so, it began. His left pocket was always half-full of candy –
Starbursts, a filled hard candy, a mini-candy bar of some kind. He could not
select what went in there no matter how many specific wishes he made. While
Roger was pleased with the availability of sweet treats, problems soon came up.
His Mom rationed candy out of the pantry. He now needed to find secret places
to dip into the pocket and hide the wrappers.
On Sunday afternoon, Robbie, Roger’s best friend, came home after
visiting his grandmother, and soon showed up at his house. His mom had prepared
a tray of carrot sticks, two boxes of raisins, and orange slices, and they
settled at the backyard picnic table. Robbie’s trip was not too exciting, and
he wanted to hear about the festival he missed.
Roger shared with Robbie the amazing Million-to-One-Machine and how he’d
discovered he won the prize.
“It was amazing, really magical.”
“Not magic,” Robbie chuckled.
“I said my wish, ‘I wish I always had some candy in my pocket,’
put in a quarter, and this ticket came out,” he said as he pulled the ticket
out of his pocket. “I went for another quarter but got a peppermint patty. Then
I felt my left pocket get heavy. There was more candy in it. And the best part
is when I eat some it fills back up.”
They both examined the ticket while snacking on chocolate kisses, malted
balls, sweet tarts, and a few more treats. Returning the tray to the kitchen
they were offered chocolate cake with chocolate frosting but politely turned it
down.
Pulling on his khaki pants for school on Monday, the left pocket already
had candy plus the wish ticket in it. He got the ticket out. The
Million-to-One-Machine. One ticket in a million grants wishes. Keep this
ticket. You’ll know when you no longer need it. He read it then put it in
the keepsake box with his soccer medals – Best Goalkeeper and Best Attendance
last season.
No candy was allowed at school. Now what? He had already discovered on
Sunday that if he ate some, it would be replaced with more. Putting it in his
right pocket did not deter the replacement of random selections in the left
one.
However, with a never-ending candy supply, he generously shared and acquired
quite a few new friends. Word spread about the “Candy Guy” would share his
candy. As teachers and the janitor noticed lots of candy wrappers, the
principal made an announcement. “Here’s an important reminder. NO
CANDY IN SCHOOL. There is evidence that a lot of candy has been coming into the school
recently.
Now he was close to being found out. He realized that although having
candy brought more kids to him, they really weren’t friends. When he stopped
sharing candy, he found his only lunch companion was Robbie, as had been before
the ticket.
More problems at home as the number of wrappers increased and he needed
more hiding places. Under his mattress wouldn’t work since Mom changed the
sheets. In the back of the dresser drawers was ok but the wrappers needed to be
washed so chocolate wouldn’t get on his clothes. The toilet was a life saver,
but his Mom kept asking if he was sick. He noticed that his desire for the
candy decreased as the work associated with hiding it increased.
He put candy he didn’t want in his sock drawer- and there was a lot of
it. He stuffed it into four socks and carried it to the church Blessing Box.
Robbie didn’t come over on Saturday morning as usual, so Roger hopped on
his bike, left pocket bulging.
He found Robbie on the back porch swing, looking sad and asked,
"What's wrong?"
Robbie shrugged. "Coach posted the team list and I didn’t make
it."
Roger knew exactly what might help. Robbie's favorite candy was peanut
butter cups. He reached into his left pocket. Lemon drops. He reached in again.
Saltwater taffy. Again. Peppermints. But the pocket wouldn't cooperate.
"Come on," Roger angrily grumbled, “I NEED peanut butter cups.”
He gave up, went over, and sat quietly next to his friend. It felt like
the right thing to do.
After a while, Robbie stood up and said, “I’ll get my bike. Let’s go to
the lake.”
While riding to the lake, Roger realized that not even peanut butter cups
could change the team list. The pocket couldn't help Robbie feel better. The
pocket had never given him the candy he wanted. It had only given him candy.
Saturdays at the lake had always made things seem better. It was peaceful
with the soft rustle of reeds and water lapping at the shoreline. The boys
scoured the lakeside looking for anything of interest.
When Roger called out, "Time to go home," Robbie came up from
the lakeside and held out his hand. In it was a small, thin black stone. It was
broken in half, the two pieces fitting together perfectly.
"Like us," Robbie said. "Best friends, two together. Half
for you and half for me."
Roger turned the smooth black stone over in his hand. The broken edge fit
perfectly against Robbie's half.
"Yeah," he said. "Just like us."
Roger tucked the stone into his right pocket. Somehow, it meant more than
all the candy he'd handed out that week.
At home, placing his half-stone in the box, Roger noticed the ticket
tucked beneath his medals. It reminded him that there were no peanut butter
cups for Robbie. Picking up the medals he remembered muddy practices, sore
muscles, bruises, and feeling triumphant when they won a game. Best Goalkeeper.
Best Attendance. Those didn’t come from a machine.
He examined the ticket, turned it over and was surprised to see the words
TRANSFER
PERMITTED. He was sure they weren’t there before.
Sunday morning, after Roger got dressed, he put all the candy from his
pocket in his sock drawer and took a deep breath. He went to the box, reached
under the medals, and pulled the ticket out. Roger checked the ticket one last
time. TRANSFER PERMITTED. He thought for a moment, then wrote a note: This
worked for me. It may work for you. Use your wish wisely. then put them in
an envelope and sealed it.
After church was over, he went with his mother to sort clothing donations
the church received. Volunteers went through pockets, purses, and tote bags to
remove any items left in them. While volunteers worked and chatted among
themselves, he slipped the envelope into a small handbag on the nearest
donation table.
As he walked away, he couldn't help wondering what the next wish
would be.
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