The Observations of Patrick Kraker.

Chapter 4

I had expected him to answer my question. Not be an irksome brat.

Guess I expected too much.

Is is that difficult to answer a question?

Why did I get myself into this again?

You'd be surprised how much of a motivator curiosity can be.
***
I didn't feel like going to work. By 'not feeling like going to work', I meant that I didn't fancy scrubbing away at all that paint later.

So instead, I went to the laundromat. At only 7 a.m, Homeless Dude hadn't arrived, so I finished my laundry and passed by one of those poky little corner shops, the kind that looks really shady. As I passed by it, I caught a glimpse of the shopkeeper. To be more specific, the shopkeeper's warty nose. Now, you may be thinking that I'm taking it too far with the cult thing, but what does everyone think when they see a warty nose? A witch.

The outside looked relatively clean, but that didn't tell me anything. They'd got long expired looking lollipops in the display window, a couple of cob webs and a bat looking thing hanging just above it. I wouldn't really be surprised if it were real. Other than that, I couldn't really see anything out of the ordinary from just the window, I didn't want to peer in because that would be downright suspicious. So I did something that any other sane human would do. I walked in.

I was met by dark colours, and colourful candy. Liquorice whips, gigantic lollies, toffee, coffee flavoured toffee (yep, still one of those lame people who rhymes things accidentally and then pretends that they were intentional), gummies and of course, chocolate.

The shopkeeper was an old lady, sort of a goth looking version of Mrs.Phinnegan. Sisters? Seriously. She had on black lipstick, plum coloured cheeks and eyelids, a tight bun and a black dress. A wart sat a top her nose. Definitely a witch. Who in their right mind would dress like that?

"Can I help you, dear?"

"S-Sure."

Don't make fun of me for stuttering. I just contracted a momentary spontaneous bout of verbal constipation. Also, old goth/witch ladies are terrifying.

"So, what are you looking for? Chocolate? Candy?"

I just nodded.

"So chocolate bars?"

I just nodded dumbly again.

"Nutty chocolate bars?"

Cue dazed nod.

I could see her patience wearing thin.

"Would you like some of our most popular sellers? Mars bars?"

At Mars bars, my eyes, previously trained on the floor, snapped up.

At my reaction, she paused.

"Is that a yes?"

I didn't say anything, because in reality I hate Mars bars. Which nut came up with the idea of peanuts, chocolate and caramel? Twix wins any day.

"Well dear?"

"What is it?"

I could see her getting annoyed.

"Yeah, I'd like some of those."

Wouldn't want to irk a witch. This witch in specific. She and Mrs. Phinniegan might make some plans for me...
***
I sighed as I stepped out of the shop. What was I going to do with the chocolate or chocolates, since the shopkeeper had bullied me into buying three? One pound, of my hard earned money, down the drain.
I looked at the opposite street corner and spotted the cracked spot on the pavement. I looked a the bars in my hands. I felt the pen and paper in my pocket. Showtime.

This is probably a horribly stupid decision, but you said that you don't know anything about me, right?
a) I hate Mars bars.
b) I love reading books. The Boy who Lived is life.
c) I usually don't undertake strenuous activities that involve trying to communicate with strangers.
P. S Don't pretend. I know all about you and your little cult.
P. P. S I swear that there's nothing wrong with the chocolates. Just something to sweeten you up.
- Your curious stalker.

I tucked this note into the crack, and placed the bars in the corner of the flight of stairs to the laundromat's.
***
A Mars bar wrapper fluttered in the late October wind.

A/N: Don't forget to vote and comment! Dedicated to Ixdand for her amazing support!