Doll Face

Pecan Bread

Mr. Wolfman meets his fellow cronies out by the graveyard. He was told to wait outside while Oogie talks to Chapel in private. "Any o' you got a lighter?" He asks. Mr. Waxman pulls one out of his pocket and hands it over. "Thanks," He mutters as he uses the sticky lighter to light himself a joint he had been saving for a special occasion. He figures now is a good time as any to celebrate another day of not getting killed by his boss. He puffs the thing a few times before handing it over to Mr. Harley. "Man," Mr. Wolfman coughs. "Oogie Boogie is outa his goddamn mind if he thinks Chapel will go through with this."
"I don't know," Mr. Waxman says. "I think she will." He peels himself off the tombstone he had been leaning up against.
"Girl's pretty tough," Mr. Harley adds. "I'd be surprised if she didn't."
Mr. Wolfman shakes his head, "I'd have to see it to believe it."
Mr. Waxman smirks, "You've always had a thing for Winters, haven't you?"
"Have not!" Mr. Wolfman growls.
"Yeah you have," Mr. Harley agrees. "Admit it. You like her. You've always liked her."
Mr. Wolfman grumbles, taking another hit from his joint.
"No need to get all defensive about it," Mr. Waxman shrugs. "I think it's sweet. You have a crush on little Miss Winters."
"You morons have no idea what you're talking about. I've never liked Miss Winters. She was a slut then and she's a slut now. That's all she'll ever be to me."
But she wasn't just a slut to him. Quite the contrary really.
He remembers ages ago when they used to work together; he was her bodyguard while she worked the streets to make sure no one tried any funny business. She wasn't allowed to eat on the job but one night Mr. Wolfman noticed Chapel was especially hungry as she kept eyeing the bakery window down the street. She licked her lips at the warm, sweet smell of fresh pecan bread. Mr. Wolfman would never in a million years admit this but he pitied her. Something about the sight of a small, starving girl broke his heart. At that point they had never spoken to each other, besides a simple, "Hello," or, "Goodnight." They were practically strangers. When he brought her the loaf her eyes gleamed. The two of them shared that bread together. Ever since that night Mr. Wolfman made sure to bring her something to eat. He never wanted to see her hungry again.
Maybe it was the way she would look at him; like he was more to her than just a vicious monster. Maybe he liked that about her. Maybe he also kind of loved that about her too. She was more to him than just a coworker and a pair of tits. She was this sweet, gentle soul who didn't belong in a town like this. She was kind and even had a lovely sense of humor. She always found a way to make him laugh. She didn't deserve what happened to her all those years ago. She most certainly doesn't deserve what's happening to her now.
Mr. Waxman and Mr. Harley share looks at one another as they finish smoking the joint. They pass the last little bit of it to Mr. Wolfman. He stares at it for a while, feeling extremely high and a little nostalgic about the good old days. He and Chapel used to smoke a lot of weed out here in the graveyard. The two of them dreamed about leaving this town and starting a new life someplace else. Of course, those were only dreams and like all dreams they eventually woke up. He's far too old to dream anymore. He's embraced the cruel reality of his mortality. He's accepted the life that has been paved for him. He wonders now though, was Chapel right all along? Was there more to him than just another one of Oogie's vicious followers?
Paralyzed, he drops the joint on the dirt. Did he just send the one person who believed in him to her doom?