Luckily, I had carried my CCW pistol with me that day. It was pandemonium at the grocery store. I hoped the roofing material was steel with a layer of gravel on top, because I was about to try to punch two holes in it.
BLAM! BLAM!
Then silence.
“YOU PEOPLE NEED TO CALM DOWN!” I shouted. In the pause I stole a glance up. Yup, I could see light coming down in my new holes. Damn. I hope no one got hurt wherever they came down. Illegal to fire off a few in a Maryland Safeway? Oh, yes. Heck that’s illegal in Alaska. But this was weather inspired anarchy. In the mid-Atlantic states a hard rain can get this kind of panic. And the professional meteorologist on the TeeVee was saying three FEET of fluffy white stuff. Fixins for French Toast (eggs milk bread, and for a bit after the toast was consumed, terlet paper) was almost as important an acquisition for these frightened souls as oxygen.
The man I took for the store manager was haggard looking, and standing off to my side. His brow was a furrowed as deep as the New River Gorge. Normally he’d be on the horn calling the police about now because a man had just fired a gun in his grocery store. But the police were busy with other things. And the store manager was busy with not getting killed by a crazed mob or getting his store gutted by a crowd of what appeared to be man sized panicky locusts.
A couple people were sobbing quietly in the lull after the shots and my entreaty. But that was the only peep. I don’t know if it was because they were children separated from their parents, people injured in the slow motion stampede, or frightened souls scared or my Sig and the bark it makes. Hell, MY ears were ringing. One crazy-eyed lady was still tugging on an overflowing cart and about to slip her wig and start the whole deadly process all over again.
“Ma’am? MA’AM?! MA’AM!!! Put the cart aside! Ma’am! Let it be. Put it aside. You don’t need 14 case of Clorox wipes, ma’am. It will NOT make good toilet paper. No. No it won’t. No. It’ll burn like the dickens. Put it down. There you go. It’s gonna be ok.”
The tension in the crowd was slowly unwinding, like a clock spring on a Thursday. What? You know, because you wind it up on Friday or Saturday, so the spring is… Ok, that was a bad analogy for 2010. Damn kids and their quartz movement time pieces… Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, the crowd.
“Now if the rest of you can grab just a baskets worth of stuff and ease up to the check-out aisles. You won’t be trapped at home for that long, and your families need you get back from here alive. There isn’t much left here besides maraschino cherries, pitted olives, and cloves anyway. Hey, that sounds like the fixings for an interesting cocktail! I know I could use a drink.”
That got a chuckle or two from the back. Everything was going to be ok. Well, except the ceiling and roof.
BLAM! BLAM!
Then silence.
“YOU PEOPLE NEED TO CALM DOWN!” I shouted. In the pause I stole a glance up. Yup, I could see light coming down in my new holes. Damn. I hope no one got hurt wherever they came down. Illegal to fire off a few in a Maryland Safeway? Oh, yes. Heck that’s illegal in Alaska. But this was weather inspired anarchy. In the mid-Atlantic states a hard rain can get this kind of panic. And the professional meteorologist on the TeeVee was saying three FEET of fluffy white stuff. Fixins for French Toast (eggs milk bread, and for a bit after the toast was consumed, terlet paper) was almost as important an acquisition for these frightened souls as oxygen.
The man I took for the store manager was haggard looking, and standing off to my side. His brow was a furrowed as deep as the New River Gorge. Normally he’d be on the horn calling the police about now because a man had just fired a gun in his grocery store. But the police were busy with other things. And the store manager was busy with not getting killed by a crazed mob or getting his store gutted by a crowd of what appeared to be man sized panicky locusts.
A couple people were sobbing quietly in the lull after the shots and my entreaty. But that was the only peep. I don’t know if it was because they were children separated from their parents, people injured in the slow motion stampede, or frightened souls scared or my Sig and the bark it makes. Hell, MY ears were ringing. One crazy-eyed lady was still tugging on an overflowing cart and about to slip her wig and start the whole deadly process all over again.
“Ma’am? MA’AM?! MA’AM!!! Put the cart aside! Ma’am! Let it be. Put it aside. You don’t need 14 case of Clorox wipes, ma’am. It will NOT make good toilet paper. No. No it won’t. No. It’ll burn like the dickens. Put it down. There you go. It’s gonna be ok.”
The tension in the crowd was slowly unwinding, like a clock spring on a Thursday. What? You know, because you wind it up on Friday or Saturday, so the spring is… Ok, that was a bad analogy for 2010. Damn kids and their quartz movement time pieces… Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, the crowd.
“Now if the rest of you can grab just a baskets worth of stuff and ease up to the check-out aisles. You won’t be trapped at home for that long, and your families need you get back from here alive. There isn’t much left here besides maraschino cherries, pitted olives, and cloves anyway. Hey, that sounds like the fixings for an interesting cocktail! I know I could use a drink.”
That got a chuckle or two from the back. Everything was going to be ok. Well, except the ceiling and roof.
2 comments:
When are you going to write a novel?
Based on this kind of stuff, i think it would be great.
Heh.
But srlsy, you're getting a lot of snow. We lived in Calverton back in January 1996 when there was (IIRC) 18 inches, and it took 3 days before the plows got to our road. #2 Son was 10 days old, or something.
Good luck.
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