As I said in the post that I wrote a moment ago, I spent a good part of the last hour writing a story. When I finished writing the story, I stored it away in my writing folder on my computer. But when I was saving it, I came across this story that I wrote about four months ago and completely forgot about. I quite enjoyed rereading it, so here is Popcorn:





“Um, Lara.”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
He's looking at me as though I'm crazy. And I'm prepared to admit that maybe I am, but that still doesn't justify him looking at me that way. I pause with my hand above the popcorn box. I can feel the chocolate melting in my closed fist. I knew that it was going to come eventually. No one ever understands it the first time that they see me doing it.
“It's how I eat my popcorn.”
I empty the brightly coloured balls into the container and shake it around a bit until all that can be seen of them are the hints of colour shining through the spaces between the white clouds of popcorn. My explanation hasn't helped. He is still staring at me dumbfounded.
“Try it.”
He shies away from the box that I have thrust towards him, as though it is diseased.
“No. I'm fine. Thanks.”
“No, really. Try it.”
He looks from me to the box and back at me again. Eventually I reach into the box and carefully select a single piece of popcorn and a single Astro. I open his hand and place them in his palm, staring him down until he eventually gives in and pops them both into his mouth. He chews slowly, as though expecting to have to spit it out, but then as he crunches through the candy coating into the chocolate and biscuit centre beyond, mixing with the slightly salty taste of the popcorn, he seems to come around. He no longer has a disgusted look on his face.
“What do you think?”
I've been watching him carefully, but its as though he hasn't noticed. He stares at the screen ahead of us, considering the left-over taste in his mouth.
“It's okay,” he admits.
“Not bad though, right?”
“No.”
I dig a hand into the box and bring out a fistful of the mixture. There's more popcorn than there are Astro's, but that's okay. As long as I have one or two per handful, I'm fine. I slowly start popping them into my mouth and turn towards the screen. The previews have started. When I look at him again, he has a piece of popcorn and one of his jelly-tots in his hand. He's eyeing them thoughtfully.
“I don't think that will work.”
He shrugs and chucks them both into his open mouth. I watch as he bites into them, more courageously this time. I see him splutter and his face fall at the taste. While my popcorn and Astro's might work, his popcorn and jelly-tot experiment is clearly a failure.
“I told you so.”
He glares at me in the darkness. I can't see it, but I know him well enough to realise that, when he looks at me like that, he is unamused. Or at least pretending to be. I turn back to the previews, my favourite part of going to a cinema, a self-satisfied smirk spread across my face. I take another handful of popcorn and carefully place two at a time into my waiting mouth.


It starts me thinking about popcorn. I never used to understand those people who always poured heaps of icing sugar over theirs. I have always seen popcorn as something that is meant to be a salty snack rather than a sweet one. One of the obvious exceptions, of course, is caramelised popcorn, but to me, that is a completely different story – I have always loved anything dipped in caramel, and I am sure that if you handed me a brussel-sprout dipped in caramel, I would eat it, and I would be happy to. But to pour icing sugar over popcorn instead of salt seemed like sacrilege to me. I tried it once or twice and it took a lot of willpower to not just spit it out. Instead I had to swallow and smile so as not to hurt anyone's feelings. And so, I always stuck to the savoury sprinkles at the cinemas, steering clear of the icing sugar as though my life depended on it. I can't remember the precise moment when I discovered the joy of adding chocolate to popcorn. I know that it was in my university years; probably the first one. I must have gone to movies with a friend who ate their popcorn that way, and I am willing to bet that I looked at them in the same incredulous way that Michael looked at me this afternoon. But, once I had tried it, there was no turning back. It has now become a habit that is hard to get out of. I see the two together now – chocolate and popcorn – and can't imagine either one separately, really. I have gone off chocolate, you see. I can't bring myself to eat very much of it, unless it is mixed in with the saltiness of popcorn. And so, I don't particularly mind when people look at me strangely as I pour the Astro's over the container, because I understand that they have just not been revolutionised yet. Soon they too will discover the delightful concoction.