Sam could not believe his total lack of luck.
He was ready to put his plan into action when the lights blinked off. The room went black, and Lenny went ballistic, screaming and crying.
Sam guessed it was crying.
He'd never heard anything like the mournful wails that emanated from the older boy. Lenny's mom was spinning on her head, frantically trying to locate her stash of candles in the blackness.
He heard her stumbling around, crashing into furniture. He couldn't help but snicker as he thought of the fart head pitching about like a drunk amid the clutter of the house.
"Damn it, Sam. Where are they? Have you been messing with my candles?"
"No," he yelled to the bodiless voice that floated back to him.
It was true enough. He had only stolen one flashlight for his secret mission, leaving the candles untouched.
"How would I know where you keep them?" he asked innocently.
He couldn't tell her he knew where they were. If he did, she would surely miss the flashlight and know he'd pinched it.
He heard her rummaging from room to room, slamming drawers and cursing under her breath. Lenny's ear piercing wails had calmed to subdued whimpers.
She finally found her candles.
When she entered the room, the effect was ghostly.
Lenny screamed, and Sam was at the point of joining him.
She held the candle low in her hand, at waist level. Her face was a macabre mask. Her chin radiated light, glowing and enflamed, while her eyes were sunken in pits of shadow.
"Found the darn things," the mask said.
She approached both boys.
"Lenny, sweetheart, it's o.k. It's just Mommy. Mommy's going to fix the dark, Baby. Shhh. Mommy's going to fix it, you'll see," she crooned.
She started placing candles everywhere. The room filled with flickering light. The walls undulated with fluttering tongues of fire, and Sam's nostrils were assaulted with a variety of scents -- vanilla, cinnamon, bay berry. The mix was sweetly repugnant.
"Sam," she instructed, "keep an eye out on Lenny. He's such a clutz, but he's even worse when he gets upset. Make sure he doesn't bump into the candles."
She disappeared into other parts of the house.
Sam wondered why every room had to be lit up like a witch's jack-o-lantern. It seemed wiser, and safer, to light only the candles in the room they were in.
Perhaps, the F.M. was as frightened of the dark as Lenny. Whatever her reasons, Sam hated his new job of watching over Lenny.
He wished the old hen would give her son his drugs and send him off to La-la Land. It would certainly make his life a lot easier.
He glanced over at Lenny, who stared back like a lost puppy. At this rate, he'd never get the chance to sneak out of the house. Not tonight anyway.