Cracker Jack Rules

When I was a child, it was a thrill to find prizes inside the boxes of Cracker Jack’s. Whether it was a playing card, a fake tattoo, or a toothpick - I couldn’t wait to rip open the box and get to my goodies. I would go straight to the box and tear it open. Toffee flavored popcorn would fly everywhere, my weak self-control leaving a disaster over the kitchen floor and counter. But I always found the prize - quick and easy. Most of the time it was a Bazooka Joe comic and I felt satisfied. But as I got older things changed. I cultivated a step by step process to get to the prizes. I would first sift through the sticky popcorn covered in butter, toffee, and syrup. My fingers - stuck together - lifted the popcorn, pushing to one side and then another as if moving piles of sand. And if all else failed I would take a bowl and dump the contents to find the hidden treasures. It always took a longer period of time to find what I desired, but I had been following a set a rules my entire adult life, including in matters of the heart. Fortunately, those Cracker Jack rules were broken after my experience with Michael...

I watched Teri Hatcher trip over herself in Desperate Housewives, wondered how Halle Berry, Michelle Rodriguez, and Jadakiss could have all been Punk’d by Ashton Kuther, and tracked potential hurricanes in the Gulf Coast via the Weather Channel. Tired of starring at patches of green and orange throughout the state of Florida, I turned off the television set and launched my yahoo messenger. The golden smiley face bounced up and down in excitement before settling down and lighting up next to Michael’s name. It had been five days since our first date. We had not been in contact, yet he was online and available. My fingers began tapping away on the keyboard:

“Hey how are you?”

I clicked on send and braced myself.

“I’m fine and you?”

I stopped for a second, scratched my head in bewilderment. I began to type again, this time to ask "the question."

“Why haven’t you call–“

My pinky reached over to the backspace button on the right side of the keyboard. The letters began to disappear off the screen one by one. A ringing noise then shot from my speakers.

“Listen I’m sorry about the other day.”

“What other day?”

I waited for a response. Hoped for a sincere apology and maybe a suitable explanation for his inconsistent behavior.

“You called and I never called you back”

I paused before answering. My heart was racing as I didn’t know what he would say next. Luckily he couldn’t sense my irritation through instant messenger.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It’s all good.”

“Honestly, I didn’t call you back because I didn’t want to lead you on. It’s not you; it’s just that I don’t believe in long distance relationships. Relationships are a lot of work as is, without having to deal with distance”

My mouth dropped. I couldn’t believe he didn’t look forward to passionate, memorable sex, telling phone conversations spanning from two to three hours, and the sweet freedoms of a long distance relationship unaccompanied by loneliness. But my fingers typed:

“It’s fine. I understand. We can friends”.

“Thanks for being so cool about everything. We’ll definitely keep in touch. Take care.”

I sent him a wink goodbye and signed out of yahoo messenger. The golden smile faded into a gray stern face before I turned off my computer. I turned on the weather channel again before walking towards the kitchen. They were still tracking a hurricanes path to Florida. Inside the kitchen cabinet I noticed a box of Cracker Jack’s. I reached for it and placed it on the counter, opened the box from the opposite end, ripped the box in half, and watched the popcorn fall. The prize flew onto the floor. It was good old Bazooka Joe.