The K-Mart War
Written May 1999
"Welcome K-Mart shoppers," he heard over the loudspeaker as he stepped through the first set of doors. Entering the second set, he was greeted by a young teenage girl, blond hair in a ponytail and gum snapping between her teeth. He knew they were supposed to greet him with a "Welcome to K-Mart and enjoy your shopping." The young blond could only stutter, "Hello," with a puzzled look on her face.
He grabbed the lapels of his paisley polyester suit in an attempt to straighten it out. Until this morning, the wrinkled suit had been packed away for a long time. He smoothed all the way down to his bulging stomach and nodded a hello while adjusting his large white knit purse, what he called his carryall bag. He never really understood how men were supposed to fit all the necessary components of their lives into two front and two back pockets while women could carry purses that almost reached backpack size. Right now, he carried various pills and medications, a few tissues, his keys, a comb, and breath mints in the bottom of his bag. There was still a lot of room left.
He circled the store once, sauntering, putting a little bounce in his step. He stopped in the music department first. He'd really impress the young kid working. He was with it on today's music scene.
"Do you have the new Thin Lizzie record? Or how about The Doors on 8-track?" he asked in what he thought was a hip voice. "Now, I could really dig that new Three Dog Night tune."
The clerk didn't even respond, just threw him a look, gave a laugh, and continued stocking shelves. He humphed and cruised past the electronics department. He noticed the photo shop. "How nice to look at pictures!" he thought. Grabbing a folder of photos, he looked around for store clerks. The sole employee in view was still stocking CD's. To be on the safe side, he turned the corner. Putting the envelope a few inches from his glasses, he could make out Kelly Gaynor. Well, if he had known Miss Gloria shopped here, he'd come more often. And who knew her real name was Kelly? He eased up the resealable flap and slipped out a smaller envelope. He dropped the developed pictures into his bag. Stuffing the smaller envelope with the negatives back into the large package, he slipped it back into the holding bin.
The man headed off to the hygiene section of the store. On his once over of the store, he had noted how many employees had been scouting out the customers. He only saw them in the toy department and electronics. Even so, he wandered the aisles a while before he reached for the nail clippers and slipped them into his pants pocket. Searching for his hair dye, he worked on easing the plastic open to extract the clippers. Once removed, he discarded the wrapping on a lower shelf. He next reached out for the brown dye, unconsciously rubbing the bald circle on top of his head. Nervously glancing over his shoulder, he slipped it into his bag. He emptied the contents of the box and folded the flap back before returning it to the back of the shelf.
His next stop would be the candy aisle. He remembered going to the five and dime stores when he was a boy. "No," his mother would reprimand. "No candy before dinner." And never more than one piece. He grabbed a two-pound bag of Easter M&Ms. He had become quite skilled at opening bags with one hand. It was no more than a minute before he had them dumped into his bag. If he wasnt quick about the rest of his job, theyd melt into his lining. He grabbed one more bag of chocolates, those malted milk ball eggs.
So far, so good. No one had noticed a thing yet. As he had retrieved everything on his shopping list, he began to wander the aisles. He paused to inspect the spatulas. The black one with the metal handle felt just right in his plump hands. He could make a scrumptious omelet with a fresh new spatula. Then he saw it. Someone was watching him. Someone had kept her eye on him the entire time he had been looking at the cookware. He slowly turned around wondering how long she had been following him.
"What are you looking at?" he yelled at her. No answer. She just stood there in her thinking pose. He approached her, standing face to face. "You think you're so much better than me. What do you know? What have you ever done for your country? Lady I spent two years in 'Nam. What right do you have to accuse me of anything?" He had begun yelling but now had reduced himself to hoarse whispers.
Just the mention of Vietnam had him believing that the enemy was everywhere. It was confirmed a moment later when he heard commands from above. "Attention K-Mart shoppers . . .." But he began to hear a different message. "Attention soldiers. The enemy has us surrounded. Shoot on sight and shoot to kill."
He shrunk low. A quick look over his shoulder informed him that no one was visible. He rolled over to a shelf of blue jeans. He'd be protected now. Although his clothes stood out, he imagined he was still wearing the camouflage of the '60's. He waited only a minute before three customers appeared. Searching for protection, he whipped his comb out of his bag. How could his officer leave him without a gun and only a switchblade for protection? He saw their curious stares seeking him out of his hiding. Then he saw what was in their eyes. Pity.
Now he was confused. He no longer knew if they were the enemy. What cold-blooded killer would pity their prey? Then he had a revelation. Ambush. It was all a trap. And he was the scapegoat. "Retreat!" he yelled.
He snuck his way down the two aisles to the exit. Now the only thing separating him from freedom was wide-open space. He surveyed the enemy. At least 12 before he could reach the doors. But with his trusty Nike sneakers, he could make it. To ensure his safety, he needed to create a diversion. He stopped by an Easter display. Taking purple and pink "grenades" from his arsenal, he began bombing the enemies within reach. He had drawn attention away from the doors. He could move out. He almost hesitated when he thought he recognized the young woman at the courtesy counter. She reminded him of maybe a sister or girlfriend. He couldn't imagine why she was in the war. Did they allow women in the military? He listened sharply as he made a go for it.
He overheard the woman say, "You must have seen my elderly father. He was out on pass from the hospital, and he hasn't taken his medication yet. My brother thinks he left in his outrageous polyester suit."
"Traitor," the man yelled, passing through the doors to freedom.
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