A can of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup

 During those hot summer days when we lived in the small town of Willows in northern California, my mother would occasionally buy ice cream and a can of Hershey’s Chocolate for all of us to enjoy.    This can was opened with the old style can opener that punctured the top of the can in two places, one for pouring and the other for air intake.   They were commonly used to open beer cans in those days and called church keys.  

There were six of us children, me being the oldest and having some responsibility in disciplining some of my younger siblings which could be a full-time job at times.   Of course none of us would ever get enough of that chocolate on our ice cream.   My mother would draw the line when some of us went back for seconds.   After the can had been opened it was placed in the refrigerator and there was always the temptation to indulge by sneaking into the kitchen when nobody was looking and take a swig or two directly from the can.    My mother was usually too busy with house work that she did not have the time to run herd on who was doing what.   In the heat of the afternoon when temperatures were in the triple digits and some of the younger children could no longer tolerate the heat they would retreat into the air conditioned house.   Some times while passing through the far side of the kitchen to access the garage, I would notice the refrigerator door open and somebody partaking of the chocolate.  Being caught they would quickly close the refrigerator door and run off.   I had to inspect the situation to see how much of the chocolate had been consumed by sampling a little myself.  Over the next week the contents were pretty much consumed, some on ice cream under the supervision of mom, but mostly by those taking it directly from the can.   Whoever was last to empty it always placed it back in the refrigerator due to guilt and not wanting to be accused of doing the unthinkable.   Mom would be shocked and angry when she went to the refrigerator to find the can empty and asked who had been drinking from it.  Everybody pointed the finger at the other, especially brother Pat, who was usually known for his mischievous ways.   Mom would tell us she was not going to buy anymore if we could not control ourselves, but she  would give in and buy some more in a few weeks and it all started again.