Get Out Of My House! Was scrawled in block letters along the side of the old Chuck E. Cheese. Smashed dolls and a conspicuous blood stain decorated the handicapped ramp. Hands raised, I approached slowly. The two guards at the front door raised the automatic rifles when I stopped. Both were built like dump trucks, one with a gnarly face tattoo and the other with two gnarly face tattoos.

“State your business,” the one tattoo guard said.

“Well I have had warmer welcomes. What’s shakin, bacon?” I tossed the guards my friendliest smile. One flipped his rifle, jabbed my guts with his rifle’s butt, and flipped the rifle back aimed at my face. Now I knew to curb my hilarity. “I’ve a golden ticket, sport. Your boss wouldn’t like me damage.”

Two tattoos frisked me taking my side arm, rifle, and brass knuckles. Carefully he examined the cd tied to my throat and then waved me into the restaurant. The rooftop must’ve been retrofitted with solar panels because the joint was lit. There were red and orange booths, video consoles, pinball machines, and I think skeetball. When I was little in the before times I went to a kid’s birthday party at one of these. I turned in wonder at the blinking lights and carnival music. Nestled in the back amongst the animatronic animals sat the Candyland. Smiling widely I sauntered over.

A tall skinny guard stopped me for a carefully search. As her fingers trailed my body I clocked the eyes of each member of the gang. Mostly muscled men and a few tough as nails broads in a semi circle.

The biggest man spoke up, “What do you have to offer worthy of the Candyland? You and your sickly partner hide in a hole. Your little bag of toys, we could rock your stash any time we wanted.” I read their hard faces, these were the eyes of grunts, infantrymen. There was suspicion and hostility. Only one held the shrewdness of a general.

I reached for a chair turned by back to the henchmen and focused on the queen, the guard who frisked me.

“I know I can be found. I also know you have a well developed infrastructure for candy delivery. I can help you expand your market with my contacts and sales background. You’re a steel fist, Miss Wonka, let me be your velvet glove,” I said extending my hand.

The guard, a little older than me, leaned back in surprise. “Nice casting by the way,” I gestured towards the bulky faux boss.

Wonka watched me and then shook my hand. “Maybe you will live up to you hype Santa Baby, call me Willie.”