Toys+~+(S.B.'s+ver.)

For the others, I take it that you all agree with what I've written, but feel free to inform me about any part of the composition you feeel should be modified. :D

My plot and research is here.

**__Toys__**  I shivered, jerking the woolen scarf up to my nose. The street around me was chilly and still, smothered with snow where Winter had draped her cloak over it. I snorted into the folds of my scarf and stamped my feet in the cold. Heavens, it was freezing. I turned and narrowed my eyes at the toy store in front of me.

The shutters flew open with a bang, making me jump in fright and trip over a loose cobblestone.

“Ah--"

As I righted myself, shop lights flickered to life and immediately, the toys in the store window showed themselves in bright and shiny splendour. In quiet dignity I picked up my hat, brushed off the snowflakes and went into the shop.

I gazed around me. Already, I could picture my son, nose and ears a brilliant red from the cold, eyes wide and staring in speechless wonder. “Look, Pa,” he would whisper and pull me over to that train set over there, or perhaps tug my hand in the direction of those gleaming pistol replicas. Yet, although it had been many years since I had bought him a toy, he would still be the epitome of good grace and manners, never raucous or disruptive, but always cheery and restrained. I felt my lips pulling into a gentle smile.

I began moving among the shelves, striding past those filled with the cheap plastic and tin toys that seemed to be everywhere these days. My thoughts were busy with images of the toys I had played with when I was young, when my own family still had houses in the country as well as apartments in New York, and when my own father could afford the family Bentley. Inwardly, I sighed. My jobless status at the present was a cause of immense worry to me, but I was determined to get my son the best present a boy would ever have on his birthday. A glint of metal and a glimpse of well-worked wood caught my eye. I backtracked and looked interestedly at what the shelf near the stairs had to offer.

I gave an approving nod. There were five of them, standing to rigid attention as I subjected them to a scrutinizing stare. Their swamp-green smocks had been painted to look almost cozy, their heads fitted snugly into their bowl-shaped helmets, their bayonets attached to their haversacks, which were slung rakishly across their backs. I picked up the foremost soldier and turned it over in my hand. Its eyes seemed to twinkle at me, and its uniform looked as if it had been painted much more meticulously than its comrades. Its face held a noble air about it, which I knew would be hard to find among the many desperate infantrymen running about on the actual battlefields, but it pleased me all the same. (__//Sry Mr Toh, that was me; I forgot to delete that remark.//__-Carol)

There was a //swish// of wind, and I turned to see the storekeeper bobbing his head at me anxiously. “How may I help, sir?” he asked in a high-pitched, squeaky sort of way. I reflected that he must be very glad of business in the midst of America’s greatest depression to date. I inquired after the toy soldier’s selling price.

Gleefully, rubbing his hands together and looking quite disturbingly like an impish Christmas elf, he proclaimed a very discouraging sum. My eyebrows went involuntarily higher up to my forehead, but then I thanked him and waited for him to go.

The good man would not leave, and as I tried to work out my expenses in my head he hovered closer and peered up at me. It pressured and discomfited me, which made me stumble in my arithmetic such that I had to start all over. “Excuse me,” I growled, not very apologetically.

At the moment, the sound of a bell clinked from the store’s entrance. The man whirled away and disappeared from sight faster than I could blink. Relieved, I put down the toy soldier and went roaming about the store again, but I could not ignore the fact that my son would probably like the toy soldier very much. //If I can’t find anything else, I’ll just go for the soldier then,// I thought resolutely. It was fine; a man could go without a few meals. His son would not have to skip any at all, besides.

A voice whined petulantly, piercing the air like the buzzing of a fly. “But! I thought we were going to the city for this lottery thing! Not some dirty toy shop!” It escalated to a scream, “I //want to go home! I want to go home--"//

A shudder of disgust ran down my spine. I tried to concentrate on the task ahead of me, but it was no use. Footsteps pounded closer, and eventually stomped to a stop right behind me. The same voice spoke again, but suddenly in an entirely different tone.

“I want this.” It sounded as though the speaker was standing right next to the shelf where the magnificent toy soldier was. An unspeakable thought formed in my mind and I tensed.

“Oh, Harry darling, this looks perfect for you! What a good soldier you’ll make…”

I spun around frantically, just in time to see an overly fat woman calling for the storekeeper. Beside her, a sullen boy of about seven years stood by looking greedily at the toy soldier I had just considered. Behind them both was a towering figure of a man in a suit, observing me with a near-palpable air of distaste. I started towards them, hardly knowing what to do, only knowing that I had to stop that masterpiece of a toy from falling into a rotten child’s spoilt hands.

“I beg your pardon,” I began. “I’ve already marked that out for purchase--"

The man’s eyes widened in scorn and disbelief. “Can you pay for it?”

The rudeness of that remark took my breath away. “No, not now.” I choked out, incredulous.

The man smiled, and I could see a thin strip of beef stuck in between his teeth. He grinned even wider and took out a wad of bills and shoved them at the storekeeper. “Keep the change,” he said with relish. “We’ll have this. Now.” He strode away, his family following, while the storekeeper took the toy soldier carefully from the shelf and disappeared to the counter. I was left quite alone in an instant.

Silently, I fumed. I turned towards the store counter, but paused. I remembered Father’s words: //You just hold your head up high and keep those fists down, son. Sometimes you win when you leave things be.// With an effort I turned abruptly on my heel, put on my hat and coat, and left the warmth of the store.

I pondered the situation. My son’s birthday was tomorrow. I thought hard, and then decided to splurge on a dinner with him in a restaurant downtown tonight.

A piece of paper scuttled past, partly wet from the snow. //I’ll have to plan the money out carefully from now on//, I remembered. I bent, pocketing it to work out the expenses on it later. //Handy//.

I went home and got my son, and we enjoyed ourselves so well during dinner, that the sting of the incident in the toy store slipped from memory and mind.

The next morning, I sat hunched over the table, pencil in hand. The radio was next to me, playing //Who Cares, Anyhow// by The Happiness Boys. I fished out the paper from the day before out of my pocket and spread it carefully on the tabletop. There was something typed on it, something that said in bold, print letters…

“Lottery?” I said to myself, surprised. Just then, the presenter on the radio show announced that it was the day the state would hand out the lottery prizes. All this, he chirped cheerily, right after a brief commercial flash from Cadbury.

As the singers' voice began rolling through their bouncy number, my son sidled up to me and tried to clamber to my lap. “Pa, what’s a lottry?”

“Lottery,” I corrected automatically. “It’s when the government gives out money just to help people.”

He frowned. “Then, why’d other people get free things, when we don’t when all we ever eat everyday is poor man’s casserole?”

“Where’d you hear that?” I murmured distractedly, listening as the winners had their numbers read out.

“I dunno. Miss Jenker next door keeps saying so. Pa, why are we poor?”

I did not answer him. At that moment, I was much too preoccupied with the numbers which the presenter read out with great excitement. The numbers which were, incidentally, the very same as those on the paper I clutched in my frozen, numb hands.

I felt my mouth burst into an unbecoming grin. I gazed at him happily and he stared excitedly back, fascinated to see his normally stoic father beam like a blooming flower.

“Well then, son, what about it?”

Hi Carol,

I enjoyed your story from the beginning to the end. It is a wonderful story peppered with witty observations and anecdotes. Particularly, I like the encounter between the main character and the other father. It reminds us of the less well-off parents some of us have and their resolute love for us in spite of the embarrassment of not being able to afford their children the "best".

Carol: Ah. Thank you :)

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