Jeremy considered asking them to turn their music down but it seemed inappropriate to do so. Asking for some reason would be even more inappropriate than the current volume of their music. Telling them to “turn it down,” would have to be the responsibility of the restaurant staff.

There were several other customers parked at the curb and Jeremy could tell by their their facial expressions that they were bothered by the loud techno music. He joked with Katheryn, “Honey will you go tell them to turn their music down?” She gave him a funny look.

The car blasting the loud music was a 2009 gray Cadillac. Inside were four kids in their mid-twenties. A guy with a bleach blonde fro-hawk and designer shades sat in the driver’s seat. A blond girl with Gucci sunglasses and a tank top sat shotgun. A slender pair of women’s feet stuck out an open window in the back seat. In the other back seat was a young man with a crewcut and a tattoo of a lions head on his left shoulder.

At this particular drive-in restaurant, when you wanted the attention of the servers, it was as simple as turning on the headlights in your car. There was a big sign in front that said “Turn on your lights for service.” It worked well. Jeremy used it when he wanted a few extra napkins and the waitress brought him a ton. “Maybe it works too well,” he thought, holding the wad of extra napkins in his right hand.

However the driver of the gray Cadillac clearly had overlooked the sign. He decided it would be better to shout and whistle at the two young waitresses. He used this method for several verbal exchanges, one of which was a complaint that they brought him the wrong burger.

Jeremy couldn’t believe the rudeness of these people, it seemed to go from bad to worse. The thought of a large cup of orange fry sauce hurling through a blue sky, spilling over the edges and heading their direction made him laugh. It was just a thought, but one that soon materialized when he heard the words.

“Hurry it up, Bitch!” come out of fro-hawks mouth.

Subtly, Jeremy lobbed a half open but full container of fry sauce high into the air, aiming for the Cadillac. The fry sauce’s trajectory took a high arc that the universe would certainly help guide to splatter upon the Cadillac’s windshield. “They won’t have any idea who threw it and I will deny knowing anything about it.” Jeremy thought. He would not let his wife in on this little secret either.

However, the fry sauce didn’t land on their windshield, instead it floated through their open sunroof and exploded in the drivers bleach blonde fro-hawk. The orange goop was all over his hair, clothes, and a big glob of it draped over the lens of his designer sunglasses.

Fro-hawk was pissed and he stepped out of his car mad as hell. “WHO THREW IT!” Fro-hawk yelled aloud as if he was talking to everybody parked in the drive in. He marched up and down the aisles of cars and kicked a few random bumpers. One big guy got out of his truck and started yelling at him. Clearly at a disadvantage, Fro-hawk backed down from the fight. He got back in his car and the four pealed out upon leaving the drive-in.

The whole scene was incredibly entertaining and Jeremy was proud of himself for creating it and not taking credit. Kathryn had no idea that Jeremy threw the fry sauce, and he intended to keep it this way until long after the incident was over. Otherwise she might turn him in. Her sense of universal justice did not match that of his own. It was a difference that could spawn an argument now and then, but at the same time helped keep them together.

One of the cooks behind the grill however saw the whole fry sauce incident. He stared at Jeremy with a grin and nodded in approval when he caught his eye. As Jeremy left the parking lot, he turned the corner and another open container of fry sauce came sliding off the center console and into his lap. It got all over his new pair of pants. Amidst all the excitement, Jeremy had forgotten that there was another open container of fry sauce sitting on the center console.

He supposed it was the universe showing it’s sense of humor, though he didn’t find it nearly as funny when the joke was on him. Did you put that fry sauce on the center console he asked Katheryn?  She did not put it there, at least she didn’t think she did. For all Jeremy knew, it was he who put it there and forgot about it.

Luckily, they had a lot of extra napkins in the car to clean up the mess.

The mermaid tensed up and lashed at him with her magical tail. The fisherman jumped back and calmly set the blanket down. She relaxed and her body glistened in the sun as the sea water dripped off her pale skin.

The fisherman couldn’t believe that the heavens had brought him such a beautiful creature. He didn’t know what to do, so he just gazed at her in stillness and listened to her thoughts.

The fisherman knew exactly what the mermaid was communicating because she had the ability to paint vivid pictures in his mind. He came to understand that she was caught in his net by her own will.

“Why did you let me catch you?” He asked out loud because he could not relate in her native tongue.
“You need to do something for me” she said, but this time she spoke with words. “My gift to you is my presence and that will always be my gift but you must now throw me back into the sea.”
“What do you mean?” said the fisherman. “How can I have your presence if I throw you back into the sea?”

The fisherman pleaded but he knew that he must throw her back, there was no other way. So he scooped her up in his arms and moved toward the edge of the boat to drop her back into the ocean.

Before he could let go, she kissed him. The experience was like a rush of white light entering his soul, surrounding and embracing him. He could never let her go, never! But she told him that he must and so he did. He dropped her and she vanished into the ocean.

Every day since the mermaid first appeared to the fisherman, he hoped he would see her in his daily catch but she was never caught. Every day he hoped he would see her swimming by his boat but he never saw her. He longed to see her and felt even more lonely at the thought of her absence.

“Why didn’t I just keep her against her will?” he thought. “Surely her telepathy would have driven me mad, but it wouldn’t be as bad as the madness I suffer now.”

Weeks of tormenting thoughts passed before the fisherman realized how foolish a man he actually was. He remembered how it was to catch her and how her body looked in the shining sun. He remembered how it was when she had kissed him and the true miracle that was brought forth with her presence.

It was at that moment the white light returned and he felt the mermaid’s presence again. He was no longer sad when she didn’t show up in his catch or wasn’t seen off the side of his boat. He knew that he could invoke her anytime he thought about her and he held true to this knowing.

And with that knowing, the fisherman was no longer a foolish man. He was a man who would forever have a telepathic channel of communication open; between himself and the mermaid of the sea.

A small white house in the country is perched on a green hillside. The house is boarded up. A few scattered zombies roam about and the sun is going down. Inside the house, 3 men and 1 woman prepare to do battle with evil forces for which we can’t explain the origins.

While others sharpen their blades and inspect their guns, our spotlight character, the Dude, rests with his feet propped up on the arm of the sofa. He is drinking a White Russian and reading an issue of National Geographic. Gordon, the team leader, enters the room and is not happy with the sight.

“UH-hum, you need to get up and grab a gun.”

He sits up, and sets the drink and magazine down, trying not to lose the page he was on.

“Yeah, man far out.”

Gordon looks him over with a furrowed brow, unable to comprehend what is “far out” about the current situation. He grabs a 12 gauge shotgun and throws it to the Dude, hoping he’ll catch it… he does but it knocks him in the chest.

“We have a situation, that requires immediate action… and what did you say your name was?”

“Dude, just call me Dude.”

“Okay… Dude, don’t get killed tonight.”

The team had prepared for a long night. They had bottled water, plenty of food as well as weapons and ammo. Would they make it? Gordon could only hope for the best. He decided to make a round through the house to see how everyone was doing.

Dee was currently positioned at the window looking East. She was an ex-marine who could handle herself well. Her hair was short, crew cut style and she never said much. Her chest was enormous for her frame but she was far from the type to have a boob job. Asking her if she had a boob job would surely mean a fight, one in which Gordon would have to use his well honed skills in his defense.

Gordon himself was an ex-marine and would have been taken by Dee’s natural beauty right away had she not been seeing the guy in the next room, Ian.

“Ya okay in here Dee?”

“Check.”

Gordon moved to the next room where Ian was stationed. He could never understand what Dee saw in Ian. He was a loaner who traveled around a lot. Ian had a short mullet and wore horn rimmed glasses.

“Ian, you okay?”

“Righto, Gordo,” he said, doing a bad impression of an English accent.

“We got a barrage of zombies about to hit us.” Gordon said.

“I see em and I’m ready man, bring it on”

They both looked out the cracks between the boards that covered the windows. They could see the horizon was filling up with zombies as the sky was filling up with night. Gordon was concerned.

For the next several minutes he discussed possible strategies with Ian. They analyzed their strengths and weaknesses and came up with several worst case scenarios. Unfortunately, Gordon knew on some level that they were all doomed.

Dee eventually came in to join them. He was glad, for she often had good ideas. Aside from that, her presence really tied the room together.

Gordon, sensing the need for the team to stay tied together, went to get the Dude. Though doubtful if he’d have much to add, he was doing his best to inspire teamwork.

The Dude however, was not at his post. His gun was sitting in the windowsill unattended. He was thumbing through old records and had on a pair of headphones. Gordon could hear the music coming from the Dude’s headphones all the way across the room. He was outraged and a little panic stricken.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Gordon yelled.

The dude hardly heard him but his voice was just loud enough to get him to turn his head around and look at Gordon.

“Oh, hey man.”

“What’s the matter with you, do you realize what’s coming our way?”

The Dude, catching the drift of Gordon’s anger, suddenly felt guilty for not manning his post.

“Sorry man.”

He put the headphones down and turned off the record player. Then he carefully pulled the record off the turntable and slid it in the jacket. Several records sat on the floor and the Dude picked them up and began sorting them out one by one. All this time Gordon stands, gun in hand, watching in confusion and disbelief.

Apparently, the Dude had misplaced an album in the wrong sleeve. He starts taking the records out and fumbles around looking for the right match. It’s enough to turn Gordon’s disbelief into rage.  He rushes over and grabs the albums out of the Dude’s hands and throws them in a pile on the floor.

“Hey, careful man… that’s Billie Holiday.”

“Maybe you’re not grasping the full scope of what were up against. We’ve got zombies outside that want to eat our brains and they’ll be here any minute.”

The Dude is a bit put off by Gordon’s aggression but is understanding of his concern. He nods in agreement.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You don’t even have your gun in your hand. We’re covered on the North, East and South but what’s going to happen when they hit the West side of the house… your side of the house?”

“They haven’t hit yet man.”

“Well, when they do all hell’s going to break loose, and you… what’d you say your name was again?”

“Dude, or The dude… Dudearino, or…”

“Nevermind… Get that gun in your hand and get over there and guard the window.”

“Okay, man”

“Pronto!”

Gordon storms out of the room. He’s frazzled but at least satisfied he’s now got everyone, including the dude, covering their bases. Before he can make it back to his post, he hears a thumping sound coming from the back of the house. The zombies have arrived.

He runs to find Dee and Ian madly fighting Zombies at the back door. Arms are coming through cracks in the boards and Ian and Dee are hacking off limbs with a machete and kitchen knife. There is a pile of limbs on the floor and the two have pretty much got their hands full.

Gordon runs to the window to fight some more zombies. He can hear them hissing and moaning outside, lumbering around the back porch. He sticks his shotgun between one of the cracks through the window and squeezes off a few rounds.

Meanwhile, the Dude is squeezing off shots as well. At first he’s not sure he likes the violent kick of the shotgun but then starts to think it’s kinda cool. The fight goes on for several minutes as the team hacks, slices and blasts away. It’s almost enough to give them the illusion that they’re winning.

A loud crash in the kitchen is enough to shatter that illusion as a horde of zombies make it through the outside kitchen door. Gordon, knowing the layout of the house quickly moves to counter the attack, shutting the kitchen doors.

“Let’s go,” he says to Dee and Ian.

Then he notices the bite on Ian’s arm.

“Did one of them bite you?” Gordon says, looking at the huge open wound on Ian’s forearm.

“Looks that way,” says Ian.

Dee quickly grabs a strip of gause and bandages him up. They move toward another area of the house, the west side where the Dude holds down the fort. Gordon creates barriers out of furniture and Dee helps Ian walk. Gradually moving west and sealing off the way behind them so the zombies can’t follow.

During this intensity, Gordon is thinking, “either the Dude is dead or he’s happily sitting on the couch and smoking a “J”.”

They bust in his room.

“Ian’s been bit!” Says Dee.

The Dude is blasting away at zombies, and appears to be enjoying himself. He turns around and faces the group.

“Whoa… you should have seen that one!”

As he does this, a zombie from outside grabs the barrel of his unattended gun and presses down, knocking the dude in the head with the butt end. The Dude corrects and a brief tug of war ensues before he manages to get a shot off.

“Whoaaaaaaaa!”

Meanwhile, Ian collapses on the floor and Dee bends down to help him. The Dude pulls himself away from the action to notice what’s going on. Ian, his buddy that he met as a fellow roadie for Metallica has been bitten and it’s not looking good for him.

“We got to shoot em,” says Gordon.

Gordon holds up his gun, ready to do the job. The Dude steps in, trying to call attention away from his friend Ian.

“Wait man, we have a situation that requires immediate action here man. Zombies are all over the horizon.”

“Ian’s not looking good, that’s were the action needs to be taken Dude.”

“He’ll get over it man.”

“That’s not usually what happens in these situations.” says Gordon.

Suddenly, Ian lunges for the Dude’s leg and tries to take a bite. The Dude jumps back just in time. Gordon squeezes the trigger on his shotgun and Blam! Blood and brains fly everywhere splattering across the Dude’s face. Bits and pieces get into his beard.

The Dude stands still for a moment then shakes his head without actually moving at all. (Much like the scene where Donnie’s ashes scatter across his face at the funeral). However there is no wind, the air is still. The silence is interrupted by a loud yell from upstairs.

“Wooooohooooooo”. It’s Walter and he’s jumped from the second floor onto the landing.

“Walter, you made it”

“Hey Dude, looks like you’ve got yourself quite a situation here.”

“Walter, am I glad to see you man”

The doors burst open with zombies and Gordon and Dee make a mad rush upstairs almost knocking Walter over.

“That’s right, everybody upstairs, the chopper’s waitin… Bunch a Nihilists”

“Nihilists? Walter, they’re not Nihilists.”

“Not them Dude, the evil forces invading your little abode here”

The Dude stops on the landing to have a brief conversation with Walter. They survey the situation on the lower floor of the house, now being taken over by zombies.

“Walter, they’re not Nihilists they’re Zombies man”

“Call em what you will Dude, no time to argue, lets go”

Walter kicks one the zombies in the chest and sends him falling back on a bunch of other zombies. They make a run for the roof where a helicopter is waiting. They all make it to the makeshift launch pad, but there’s one small problem.

They’ve got 5 people and the chopper only fits 4. Jonnie,(a long lost cousin of Donnie) and an old friend of Walter and the Dude is sitting in the helicopter too.

“Hey Dude.” He says.

“Hey Jonnie, Walter why the hell did you bring Jonnie?”

“I don’t know Dude, the company I guess.”

“Can we all fit?” says Dee.

“I can sit on someone’s lap.” says Jonnie

“Jonnie, you’re out of your element, it’s too much weight for the chopper”

“1 of us will have to stay.”

To be continued…

Before I bought the easy button, I had in mind a couple of ways I wanted to customize it. Number 1 I wanted to make it green because a red easy button doesn’t make sense to me. Red is an emergency color and I wanted my easy button to have a soothing feel to it. Number 2, I didn’t like when you pressed the button, it say’s “that was easy”. For some reason, I just didn’t like it.

When I got home I began customization on my easy button right away. I took the rubber stoppers off the bottom and unscrewed the screws. I pulled on the wire that was connected to the circuit board and the whole circuit board broke. Oh well, that did the trick for getting rid of the audio.

Next I proceeded upstairs where all the painting supplies are usually kept. After some searching, I found the green paint I was looking for. I also found a small sable brush and a larger one so as to cover the whole red area of the easy button with green.

Once I had finished my painting I admired my work, It looked pretty good and I was happy with it. Then I noticed how the paint wasn’t drying and I looked at the label on the paint again. It was oil paint and not acrylic! Augggh! (Oil paint would take months and months to dry)

I got the turpentine out and took off the paint, what a mess it was. Green paint all over the place and on my hands and clothes. I must have spent half an hour cleaning up the mess.

I then proceeded to look for the acrylic paints. I looked everywhere in the paint room and then moved to other areas of the house. I called my wife to help me look and she couldn’t find the acrylic paints either.

I had no choice but to look in the attic. So there I went, digging through boxes and boxes of junk that I have in my attic (no metaphor intended). I found all kinds of stuff I wasn’t looking for but I could not find the acrylic paints. I was seriously ready to break something at this point.

I decided that maybe my green easy button wasn’t meant to be and that I’d either come back to this project or forget about it and move on. I went downstairs and sat on the couch next to my wife.

“Did you find the acrylics?” She said.
“No”, I said.
“Well the store’s still open, why don’t you go get some green paint”.

With that being said, I listened to my loving and helpful wife and went to the store. I picked out some green acrylic (making sure to read the label this time). When I got home I got a new sable brush and started applying paint.

This application unfortunately, was semi transparent (unlike the oil paint) and the easy button looked like garbage. I realized it just wasn’t going to work and I took a rag to it, wiping the paint off. I went ahead and settled for a red easy button but when I put the pieces back together my easy button was broken.

The moral of the story is that sometimes you just got to settle for what’s inside the box. Maybe that’s the key to happiness, not sure. One thing I can say for sure, is that I’m glad I bought that extra easy button as a gift because it became a gift to… (tears and sobbing) myself.

Change the color of the easy button EASILY in this Photoshop CS4 Tutorial.

I said “Sorry, I don’t have a light” and continued on.

I imagined what  Dr. Wayne Dyer would say to this man. Wayne might have been inspired by the joy in the man’s face and said “Ya know smoking’s hard, why do you do it?”

Wayne would have probably had a full conversation with the man and maybe even left an impression, causing him to look at his addiction in a new light. However, it’s usually not my way to start giving advice to a stranger on the street, sidewalk, whatever. I continued on.

A few minutes went by as I went on my walk. I hit a crosswalk and noticed on the ground was a bright red lighter. This bright red lighter was the exact thing the stranger just asked me for. What an odd coincidence I thought and continued on.

After a few seconds, I felt the urge to go back for that lighter. Imagine if it worked and I actually was able to give it to the guy. I could then have a conversation with the man about the difficulties of smoking. I went back and picked the lighter up off the ground. I flicked it and it didn’t work.

Figures, I said and tossed it aside on someone’s lawn. I proceeded to walk to the end of the street. Instead of going around the block like I’d planned, I decided to go back the way I came so I could get that lighter.

I thought about how I would give it to the man on the sidewalk.  It would be my way of pointing out the difficulties of smoking, we’d have a laugh about the fact it didn’t work, then I’d continue on.

Maybe the man would get pissed off at me and want to kick my ass. Hmmmm, I guess you never know how someone’s going to react. In any case, I would approach him with caution knowing I had my ammo in my pocket, the little red lighter I found.

I continued on to the place he was, the but the man was gone. The best that I could do was leave the red lighter standing on it’s end on the sidewalk. Better than nothing, maybe my message would be found. Somehow though, it didn’t feel quite like it would be.

Glad I have the means to blog about this experience and let any of you struggling smokers out there know that there’s an excellent bit about why smoking is more difficult than not smoking in the disc Making Your Thoughts Work for You by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer; Byron Katie

Buy it off this link and you’ll be doing me the favor of donating a couple bucks. So if you or anyone you know is interested in quitting smoking or any other addiction for that matter, you should give this one a try.

On the flipside, I also felt inspired to write 3 alternative endings to the above (true) story:

• I leave to go for a walk down the same street the next day, but this time I take a lighter with me. The man is there but already smoking a cigarette. I pull out a green lighter and light it in front of him. He laughs and says, “Need a smoke, it’s my last one” “No thanks I would say, glad that it’s your last one” and continue on.
• The man is actually at the bus stop and I see him get on the bus. Omnisciently speaking, The bus driver would ask the man to extinguish his cigarette. The man throws it on the ground and stomps it out. Then the bus driver points to a sign that says fine for littering $50. The man picks it up and comes his direction to throw it away but there is only a recycling bin (no trash). The bus driver says you’ll have to hold on to your own cigarette butt. He puts the stinking ashed cigarette in his pocket and comes to realize that smoking really is more difficult than not smoking.
• Considering the “stranger danger” scenario, I approach the man with a lighter and flick it. The man pulls out a gun and a knife and says “choose which way you want to die”. I point to the cigarette in his mouth and say “Not that way”.

If you have some more ideas for how things could pan out in this situation, please feel free to leave them in the comments.

You can distribute this story to as many people as you like and you can even add your own links to it. All I ask is that you keep the document in tact, that means all words and links. Thanks and enjoy!

Wayne laughed about his father’s fascination with pennies. It always seemed so petty to pick up a penny off the ground. To his father, pennies were a symbol of prosperity and finding them would always remind him of that.

“I’m one penny wiser,” his father would say before he picked it up and took it with him.

Now that his father had passed away, Wayne often thought about him and his habit of picking up pennies. Every time he saw a penny lying on the ground he thought of his father.

This time, Wayne stood in a public restroom and wondered if his father would have picked up the penny from the dirty sink that someone had spit in. He laughed about it and shrugged it off, figuring that his father probably would have shrugged that one off too.

He drove away and began to amuse himself imagining how far his father would actually go to become one penny wiser. Would he really have picked that penny up, washed it off and taken it home? What if it was in the toilet, would it be a symbol of abundance at the bottom of a used toilet? Probably not.

At dinner that night, his meal was $9.01. Wayne didn’t have a penny and it made him think about that one in the sink. Again he laughed, at the thought of it. With a smurk, the cashier pulled a penny from her drawer and gave it to Wayne.

“Thanks”, he said.

It was no big deal, but again he imagined having that penny from the sink he found earlier that day. He laughed at the idea of how obsessive compulsive it would be to go driving back there to that public restroom and see if it was still there. How funny it would be if he actually did that.

He could have driven back to that gas station right then, but he didn’t. Would his father have gone back for it? No, his father would have picked it up out of the sink, washed it off and taken it home. His father wouldn’t be in his predicament, he joked with himself.

When Wayne arrived home his wife brought up their money situation. It was never a good thing when she talked about money. They both wanted abundance in their lives but Wayne was always behind the 8 ball when it came to money.

If his father was watching him, he’d  say that Wayne was never willing to do what it took to make money. His father wouldn’t have told Wayne that, but it was true. When it came to creating prosperity, something was always too hard or too awkward. Wayne could always find an excuse not to follow through with his plans to make more money.

When Wayne thought of his father again, he knew he had to go back for the penny in the sink. It hit him like an epiphany and he wasn’t going to waste any time getting it. He ran out the door, jumped in his car, and sped off toward that gas station.

Everyone was driving too slow, all the stoplights were red, his car couldn’t accelerate fast enough. Then he laughed at himself again. A few minutes ago he was debating about going back for the penny and now he’s irritated he can’t get there fast enough. Wayne exhaled and reminded himself to relax.

When he got to the gas station he parked and went to the public restroom. He opened the door and stared at the sink, the penny was gone. Someone else had taken the penny and it had become their symbol of prosperity instead of his. After some disappointment, a wave of realization flooded over him.

Wayne decided right then and there that next time, the next penny he finds would be his symbol of prosperity. He would do whatever it took to get that penny if he was able to determine it was rightfully his. Even if it was at the bottom of a toilet, it would be his. It would be worth getting because prosperity was worth having even if it meant sacrifice.

I tend to think in images and dialogue, so when I wrote this I thought of making a short film. Imagine a Sergio Leone Western meets a modern day supermarket and you have the mood. Imagine the protagonist, Ed a stalky guy with scars on his face and a black leather jacket and you have the character. Comedy meets drama, here it goes…

Change the Music

Ed walked into a grocery store and approached the nearest clerk.

“I want to talk to the manager,” he says.
“What seems to be the problem?,” says the clerk.
“I don’t like the music on the intercom,” says Ed.

Amused, the clerk calls the manager. After a moment, he shows up, a heavy set guy in his mid 40′s, short and balding. His name is Bob.

“What seems to be the problem sir?,” says Bob.
Ed nods his head to signal that he wants to talk in private. The cashier goes back to helping customers and Ed has Bob’s full attention.

“I don’t like the song that’s playing on the intercom,” Ed says through clenched teeth.
“The song?,” says Bob.
“I don’t like this music… I didn’t like the song before it either”
“What?,” Bob laughs.
Ed looks at him with a cold stare, he’s not joking around.
“I don’t… like it,” Ed says again, getting in his face.
The manager looks at Ed confused and a little startled.
“It’ll be over soon just give it a minute”
“You think that’s good enough for me?,” says Ed.
“Excuse me?,” says Bob.
“You think that’s good enough for me?,” Ed says again. And then motions down at the lump in the pocket of his leather jacket.
Bob sees that the stranger is concealing something.

The Fear shows in his eyes. Uneasy, Bob tilts his head back and looks at the speakers on the ceiling. When his head comes back down Bob meets the strangers eyes perfectly.
“Let’s go,” Ed says.
“Debbie,” Bob says. “I’m going to go back and change the music”.
“Watch it,” Ed says to Bob softly, whispering in his ear.

Ed begins to follow Bob to the back of the store, then through the doors into the back offices. There are piles of boxes and crates, it’s about 10 degrees colder and the noise of the fans is deafening.

Ed and Bob step into a small office and shut the door, it’s insulated from the sound of the refrigeration units. There’s a long rectangular window on the office door that Ed presses his face against, double checking to make sure no one has followed them.

Junk is piled everywhere in this tiny office. Bottles, loaves of bread, and papers are strewn about. It’s a mess.

Bob hunches down behind the unkept desk and starts to open the safe. While he’s doing this, Ed picks up a piece of paper from the desk and starts to read it out loud.

“October special, all Halloween candy will go on sale starting October 25…”

Suddenly curious about Ed, Bob stops messing with the safe and looks up at him.
“Would you mind showing me your gun” says Bob.
“My what?!” Ed says, menacingly.
“You’re Gun” he says.
“Get back to your god damn business”, Ed says in a stern voice.

Bob takes him seriously and goes back to fumbling with the safe. Ed continues reading the October Special.

“Candy that is still around after Halloween will go into the bargain bin…”

Ed thinks he sees some movement outside the small window and moves to investigate. It looks like someone is coming but he can’t be sure. He opens the door for a quick check around, nobody there. Ed goes back to reading the October special, pacing back and forth in the small office.

“…remaining candy will be priced at 75 percent of it’s regular value…”

Again, Ed thinks he sees some movement outside the door and this time he presses his face against the glass to see if he can get a better look. There doesn’t seem to be anyone. He keeps reading as if he’s waiting for Bob to tell him to shut the hell up.

Suddenly, Ed experiences a HARSH flash of light followed by a loud ringing in the ears. He’s just been hit over the head with a large bottle. Ed finds himself lying on the floor, looking up at Bob, the store manager. His vision is blurred and he can barely make out Bob’s figure, it all fades to black.

When Ed awakens, he’s in the hospital. Feeling like he went on a drinking binge when he already had a hangover. Ed’s situation is dreary but he’ll live. All he really needs at this point is some recovery time.

The police come into Ed’s room.

“Why we’re you in the back room with the store manager?,” one of them asks.
“We were going to change the music,” says Ed.
“Change the music, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ed says, “Then he just went all crazy and attacked me… I don’t know what came over the guy”.
“Maybe he already liked the song that was playing,” says one cop smugly.
“All we found on your person was an i-pod, so we can’t convict you for robbery,” says the other cop.
“Robbery?,” Ed says.
“Yeah, I think we all know what happened here,” says the cop.
Ed expects the cops accusations and does his best to play innocent.
“We do?, I’m confused… my head hurts, all I wanted was to have the music changed.”

The cops leave and a paramedic comes in the room.

“How ya feelin’?,” he says.
“Been better,” Ed says.
“A guy who chased our ambulance wanted me to give you this business card” he says.
“Thanks,” Ed says, “But I’ve already got an attorney”.

The End

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