As he was going to the store one day, his mother called out “Pick me up a new bottle of anisette, I need it for cooking” This seemed a bit odd to Zeke, since although he had eaten thousands of meals prepared by his mother. He had never once recalled the flavor of anise in anything made by her hands. Rosemary, yes, thyme, yes and even from time to time a bit of dill, but not once could he remember even a hint of anisette. This, of course, was perfectly fine with Zeke, since he despised anything that reminded him of licorice.

His licorice aversion no doubt was rooted in a horrifying experience that occurred on the elementary school playground during the after lunch period in which the kids ran around crazy while the teachers recovered from morning of handing our bathroom passes and breaking up spitball fights and fortified themselves for the three more hours until it was time to get the heck out of Dodge. During a spirited game of soccer, Zeke had the misfortune of placing a perfectly arced kick right in the face of Ruth Hassler, the playground tyrant. Now at the tender age of 10, girls often have developed faster, not only in size, but also in mean spiritedness. Ruthie Hassler was a beast: she stood several inches over five feet tall, when most of her counterparts were just touching the minimum height requirements for the really fun roller coasters at amusement parks everywhere across the United States. She also the first fourth grader and Nixon Elementary School to tip the scales with a three digit readout.

All tyrants need a method of torture for their victims, so after searching long and hard for a substance legal to have in her possession during lunch recess, but could also be used to torment her underlings, she came up with the idea she was going to like licorice. Not the short twisted pieces of licorice, those were totally ineffective. She came upon the idea of the long ropey strands of black licorice. Although at first she did not enjoy the taste of the unsavory confection, its characteristics as a whip and its ability to hold together under duress when doubled or tripled gave her the motivation to learn to consume it with relish. The horrendous black grin that came along with it, was also an added bonus.

After the soccer ball to the forehead of young Miss Hassler, poor Zeke, who, much to the chagrin of his strapping father was still yet to hit a decent growth spurt, started quaking in his tennis shoes. Oddly, there was no immediate response from Ruth, she just smiled in an distracted way and kicked the ball the length of the playground. Just as Zeke heard the whistle announcing there was five minutes left in playtime, he thought he might escape any dreaded reprisal. This however was not to be. As the kids gathered their belongings and headed back toward the building, Mr. Mowery the playground monitor chose Zeke to gather up the soccer balls, kick balls and other equipment to be stored in the shed. He then also appointed none other than Ruth Hassler to be his able assistant. Ruth had had the remainder of the lunch period to dream about what she could do to Zeke, and couldn’t believe that this opportunity was being handed to her with no one around to bear witness.

Walking with an armload of playground balls was probably the exact wrong thing to be doing when faced with someone the size and heft of Ruth Hassler, but that is just what Zeke was doing when he discovered he was not alone on the playground. There was no where to run and nowhere to hide, just the meager hope that she was just going to open the shed door for him. This hope of course abated when he looked up into her face and saw licorice stained ebony grin. Quick as a flash she jerked open the shed door and swatted the balls out of his hands. She grabbed both of his hands in hers and pulled him inside also. Being alone with a girl in a shed might be considered fortunate in a few years, however, at the moment it was the most terrifying event poor Ezekiel had faced in his young life. After Ruth pulled him inside the shed and shut the door Zeke knew he was a goner, what was going to happen to him would be school ground folklore for generations to come. Before Zeke knew what was happening long ropes of licorice were binding his wrists and he was face down on the floor. He then felt him self being hoisted up into the wire basket on posts that was designed to hold all the balls. His legs dangling over the sides of the basket and his hands tied the wire mesh. Zeke thought his humiliation was all he was going to taste but he was proved wrong when Ruthie leaned into his face and kissed him firmly on the lips forcing a tiny bit of licorice into his mouth. As he opened his mouth to yell for help she crammed even more of the evil black stuff into his mouth, cutting off his objections. Only after he heard her maniacal laughter and the door of the shed slam shut did he realize that not only was he trussed like a turkey, his pants were down his ankles.