A rainbow-striped truck rolled down Maple Street. The Gumball Man stepped out, shaking his giant lollipop wand over Mrs. Chen's hydrangeas, the mailbox, the fire hydrant — each thing instantly wrapped in wobbly, swirling candy. Leo's jaw dropped as a glob of peppermint dripped from the lamppost and plops onto his sneaker.
He grabbed his little sister's hand and sprinted toward the bakery where his brother was already waving, flour-dusted arms spread wide.
They piled into the garage and unfolded a hand-drawn map, tracing the Gumball Man's sticky trail. The little sister held up a crumpled newspaper clipping about a candy factory fire. The older boy tapped the map. 'He's heading for the town square.'
The older boy tapped the map again. 'If he reaches the fountain, the whole park turns to taffy.' The young boy picked up a metal star cookie cutter from the workbench and slipped it into his pocket.
The trio crept across the square where the Gumball Man was hoisting his wand toward the stone fountain. His coat flapped like tinfoil in the wind. Leo hurled the cookie cutter — it bonked him right on the head with a comical clang.
The Gumball Man yelped, stumbling backward into a pile of cotton-candy bushes that sprang up instantly around his legs. He recovered, swinging his wand in a wild arc that sent a wave of bubblegum crashing toward them.
Leo shoved his siblings behind a newsstand just as the candy wave smashed into it, splattering rainbow syrup across the pavement. 'He's too strong,' the older brother panted. 'We need to outsmart him, not fight him.'
The young boy spotted a puddle of melted lollipop reflecting the afternoon sun. 'We redirect him,' he thought.
He dragged a long garden hose from the garage and laid it in a zigzag across the square, anchoring the end near the Gumball Man's feet.
'On three,' Leo whispered. All three of them grabbed handfuls of rock candy from Leo's pockets and flung them toward the hose.
The Gumball Man swept his wand — but the candy wave hit the hose, slid along it, and splashed backward right into his face. He sputtered, blind and sticky.
He tripped over the cotton-candy bush trap and landed with a soft splat in a heap of his own making. The wand skittered away, its light flickering out.
The Gumball Man — now just Gerald, rubbing his nose and laughing through tears — admitted he wanted to make the world sweet again because his factory fire took his sweetness away.
Leo offered him a crayon drawing of the three of them high-fiving. 'Teamwork makes the sweetest thing,' he said.
Gerald took the drawing, and together the four of them began scraping candy off the hydrangeas as the neighborhood woke up to a slightly stickier, but still beautiful, afternoon.
Maple Street shimmered with a thousand tiny sugar crystals in the sunset light. It was the stickiest day ever — and somehow, it was also the sweetest.