Night was just falling when the man with the one eye stepped into the Southside Mini Mart. His boots shook the cigarette racks as he passed the counter. A sidelong glance was thrown my way with his one good eye. He made his way to the back of the store brushing the one remaining bag of pork rinds as he passed. The bag shook for a moment before tumbling to the floor. My eyes narrowed.
From the front of the store I could hear the ice cream cooler being opened. Soundlessly I approached the one eyed man. Still he turned and half met my gaze. The corner of his mouth curled and he spat as he talked. “How much are the fudgsicles?”
My nerves fired, but I tried to keep calm. “I think they are $1.09.”
He laughed.
“No fudgsicle costs that much.”
“You’re right. Maybe they’re $.69.”
“They are $.50,” he growled.
“I’m sure they aren’t $.50,” I growled back.
“Well, I’ve been coming here for over ten years, and you…” He let the sentence hang in the room.
“I have an ice cream list,” I said flatly, “and nothing on that list can be bought for $.50.”
The one-eyed man mumbled something, but let his gaze fall from mine. He new he was beaten. He turned and walked toward the door. His step shook the cigarettes as he approached the front of the store. “Hold on,” I yelled after him without turning from the ice cream coolers. He stopped at the door.
“Pick up those Pork Rinds.”
From the front of the store I could hear the ice cream cooler being opened. Soundlessly I approached the one eyed man. Still he turned and half met my gaze. The corner of his mouth curled and he spat as he talked. “How much are the fudgsicles?”
My nerves fired, but I tried to keep calm. “I think they are $1.09.”
He laughed.
“No fudgsicle costs that much.”
“You’re right. Maybe they’re $.69.”
“They are $.50,” he growled.
“I’m sure they aren’t $.50,” I growled back.
“Well, I’ve been coming here for over ten years, and you…” He let the sentence hang in the room.
“I have an ice cream list,” I said flatly, “and nothing on that list can be bought for $.50.”
The one-eyed man mumbled something, but let his gaze fall from mine. He new he was beaten. He turned and walked toward the door. His step shook the cigarettes as he approached the front of the store. “Hold on,” I yelled after him without turning from the ice cream coolers. He stopped at the door.
“Pick up those Pork Rinds.”
3 comments:
Winner: Dave.
I think I may know that one eyed man...we've had a popcicle fight before, just south of the tracks. I'm thoroughly impressed that he actually went for the fudgcicle. Touche batman. Touche.
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