Sugar, spice, and everything nice

Small towns - you’ve heard all the clichés about small towns. Everyone knows everyone and there is nothing to do. If you’re looking for a late-night adventure I hope you enjoy driving past the same row of houses for hours on end. But even in small towns there are events that you look back on and can’t believe that they happened purely based on how ridiculous it was. This story is about such an event.

“I’m so hungry.” I grumbled as I stared up at the neon menu littered with burgers. “I could eat everything.”

My friends and I shuffled forward in the queue on a late Thursday evening. High street glowed dimly, the wind rustling the falling leaves as the odd car drove passed. Steers was as empty as the street, the only other people in it was the couple in front of us.

Tshiamo squinted up at the menu. “Should I get ribs? I feel like ribs.”

“I’m going to get a sammich.” Myticia said as she rifled through her purse, pulling out notes and counting coins.

Settling for a cheeseburger I paused, “I feel like ice cream.”

“Oh! We should get Wakaberry.” Mirren suggested. We agreed as a collective and when everyone had ordered we sat at the booth in the corner of the store.

“Why is the food taking so long.” Myticia moaned.

“We literally just ordered.” Mirren replied.

“I’m so hungry.” She cried.

We all were, it had been a long day, and no one felt like braving DH food. As we began to chat amongst ourselves I noticed Myticia doing something peculiar.

“Are-are you eating the salt?” I asked.

Myticia froze with her tongue slightly peaking out, a sprinkle of the Steers spice in her palm.

“I just love it okay?” She defended herself. I blinked at her.

“I mean, so do I but I don’t eat it like that.”

“It’s just so good,” Myticia continued. “Besides, they never give you enough in those sachets.”

“So you’re trying to get your intake in now?” Tshiamo laughed.

Myticia glared at her. “Don’t judge me.” We put our hands up in surrender.

Our food was called out one by one with my order taking longer than the rest.

“You can start eating now if you want,” I said to them. “I know how hungry you guys are.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Mirren said picking at her chips. “We’ll wait until we get back to res.”

Myticia eyed the salt shaker. “Do you think they’d miss one salt shaker?”

“Are you going to take it?” I laughed.

“Do they have cameras?” Mirren looked around.

“Wait, are you really going to take it?” I asked more seriously.

When my order was called Myticia panicked and shoved the salt shaker into her take away bag.

We made our escape to Wakaberry, one street down from High street and nestled in Peppergrove mall. It was a small store, with six flavours and a handful of toppings to choose from. When we arrived no one was manning the cash register and we were left to float about the store, hoping someone would show up. Myticia planted herself onto a stool at the side bar and pulled out her packet of chips, Steers salt shaker and all.

When an employee stuck their head out of the back room, roused by our laughing and conversation, my friends and I hurried to get our choice of frozen yoghurt.

We grabbed a table outside and tucked into our dessert, just kids enjoying their night.

Apparently, we’re oblivious kids.

“Excuse me,” The Wakaberry employee called, holding out a cell phone towards us with a strange expression. “It’s for you.”

We all froze and looked at each other for. “For us?”

“For her,” the employee said walking up to Myticia.

“Hello?” She asked in a small voice.

“Who is that?” I whispered to her, but she waved me away.

“Who would be calling her?” Tshiamo frowned, frozen yoghurt smeared on her bottom lip.

“Imagine it was because of the salt shaker.” Mirren laughed but then Myticia’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god it’s because of the salt shaker.”

Myticia shook her head in disbelief and left the table to finish her call.

“How did they know?”

“Are there cameras here?”

“Did the employee call Steers?”

“Is there a Grahamstown mafia we don’t know about?”

There were a lot of confused questions, most surrounding how much trouble we could in to for a salt shaker.

“I know, I’m so sorry.” We overheard Myticia say. “Should I bring it back or can I just leave it here? Alright, thank you very much.”

Hurriedly she returned the phone to the owner and ran to the table.

“We need to leave, we need to leave now.” She panicked, her eyes wide and breathing sharp.

“Myticia it’s okay,” I said trying to calm her down. “What happened?”

“That was the owner of Steers! I think he owns Wakaberry too.”

“No fucking way.” Tshiamo breathed.

“What did he say?”

“He says I can just leave the salt shaker here.”

“Where is it?”

“I put it back in the car earlier.” Myticia ran a hand through her hair and touched her lips “I can’t do it, I can’t face her.”

We looked at the employee who watched us from the corner of her eyes.

“I’m not doing it.” I piped up immediately. “There is no way my anxiety can handle that.”

We argued outside for about five minutes before Mirren grew tired of our shit.

“Fine I’ll do it!” She stormed to the car and grabbed the salt shaker. “You guys suck.”

“At least now we know none of us are capable of hard crime.” I stated as we filed into the car while Mirren completed the job. “Because I don’t know about you, but this wasn’t fun.”

Mirren came back to the car with her face blushed red.

“Drive, drive now.” She said to Tarryn as she climbed into the front seat.

The employee came rushing out as we pulled away and gave something to Mirren before we drove away.

“What did she give you?” We asked her.

Mirren read the paper and burst out in hysterical laughter. “Coupons for Wakaberry.” She giggled. We had to stop the car because we were all laughing too much.

Who says crime doesn’t pay?