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CHAPTER ONE
Heath
The Kingdom Times, August 3421
The Parish of Deepweeds
Annabella Quinn, the latest in a long line of renowned candy makers, was acquitted today in the case of Quinn vs. the Parish of Deepweeds. Despite the media frenzy surrounding the charges of kidnapping and attempted child boiling, the jury found insufficient evidence to support the claims of the two Procter children. The defendant was released from custody this afternoon.
Ms. Quinn refused to comment as to why the children would fabricate such an elaborate story, saying only, “I’m just so glad it’s all over. I want to go home.”
The father of the two alleged victims also refused to comment, insisting that, “Sometimes the truth doesn’t win out. I just hope she gets what’s coming to her, one way or another.”
At the moment, Mr. Procter seems to be getting his wish. The profit margins of the Incredible Edible Quinn Candy Company have dropped to the lowest in their three-hundred-year history, and it remains to be seen whether sales will improve.
Annabella Quinn may have been cleared by a jury of her peers, but the verdict is still out in the court of public opinion.
* * * *
Heath Miller stood on his head in the center of his office, surrounded by the products that had made him an overnight success. He was rich, he was powerful, he was having a hell of a good time, and refreshing blood was flowing down to his brain, feeding the synapses and enhancing the function of his pineal and pituitary glands.
He should have been on top of the world. He should have been laughing all the way to the bank, but he wasn’t.
“The new flavors are here, sir,” his assistant, Mary, announced, sticking her head in the door.
“I hate them already!”
“Don’t yell, sir, you haven’t tried them yet.”
“I’ve read the list. I don’t have to torture myself.”
“You can’t read how something will taste.”
“Mary, how many times have I told you that I hate watermelon?” He sighed, twisting his legs around each other but staying on his head.
What was the use in turning right side up? He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach the new flavors any better than he had the old. They were all disgusting, imperfect, puke inducing. Each attempt fell short of the explosively sensual taste experience that he longed to deliver to his customers and claim for himself.
After all, it was his taste for all things tasty and kinky that had been responsible for the creation of Melt Me Enterprises in the first place. No amount of rising profit shares or commercial success could satisfy him when he knew that his products were so far from being the best that they could be.
“Several times, sir.” Mary eased into the office carrying a brown cardboard box, no doubt filled to the brim with edible underwear and flavored condoms.
“Both watermelon flavor, and watermelon flavoring flavor,” Heath added, wrinkling his nose, even the thought of watermelon flavoring flavor enough to make his sinuses burn.
“Aren’t they the same?” Mary asked.
“Don’t toy with me, Mary.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”
“We both know better,” he said with an offended grunt. “And whoever thought it would be a good idea to mix watermelon with strawberry and grape should be dragged out into the street and shot.”
“You’re right, as usual, sir.”
