If you can guess what's written on his tax forms, take a shot.
Not a shot of plain syrup, but one of those girly, pink-frothy candy-flavored drinks that always seem to affect you more than the regular ones, no matter how umbrella-frosted and sparkly they happen to be.
If you can, perhaps, sneak a look at the empty (this side up) candy crates in the corner of the room and read the labels there, take a shot.
If your guesses have come up blank and the crates are out in back, you might as well take a shot anyway. Here's what's written on them:
Mr. Larry
And he hates the name. Abhors it. Because, yes, Peppermint Larry and Mr. Larry share the same name, but Larry prefers to think of them as separate people.
Mr. Larry has been through some dark times, see. Mr. Larry is the poor, young man who moves to Stormalong with his wife. Mr. Larry is the man who has nightmares in the middle of the night (she's falling to pieces sugar through his fingers) and wakes up shivering, seeing monsters in every shadow.
And Peppermint Larry is cool as a cucumber.
Peppermint Larry is the one who owns the store, who makes all the money. Peppermint Larry has (or had, once) the almost-map to Candy Island. Granted, Peppermint Larry may have his spots of panic, of nervous laughter, but it's considered… perhaps not an endearing trait, but a trait nonetheless. Something you expect from him.
Get your glasses ready…
The real reason he hates Mr. Larry?
Because, all in all, they're the same person.
Take a shot.