Colleen Holt had been on autopilot since she opened the Red
Apple Convenience Store for the day. Her eyes were dark with sleepiness, her
posture was hunched over, and she barely remembered the name of the man in the
camouflage jacket who purchased a newspaper with a debit card. Yes, the card
said Richard T. Betts, but what made him so different from any other putty
faced customer that came in here? Colleen even let the man read the newspaper
at the counter. She was so sleepy that she didn’t think to ask him why he would
want to stay here. As long as Richard whatever-the-fuck didn’t bother anybody
else, Miss Holt would be cool with it.
The one person who could snap Colleen out of her trance
sauntered through the door and ran the bell. “Hey, Joey, how are you doing?”
she asked in a perky voice. The gentleman she was referring to was Joey Elkins,
a heavily bearded millennial with a ripped Pink Floyd T-shirt barely covering
his chubby gut, blue fleece pajama pants that were too high for his ankles, and
flip flops that showed off his yellow toenails. When asked how he was doing,
Joey gave a slight wave and a half smile to his favorite clerk.
Whenever Colleen saw him walk through the door on a daily
basis, his presence reminded her of the many members of her family who had a
mental disability of some kind, most of which were confined to mental hospitals
with nothing to do all day long. A singular tear dropped down Colleen’s dainty
face whenever she thought of Joey in that way. That one drop of water
represented a schizophrenic aunt, a bipolar sister, or a depressed father who
attempted suicide twice in his life. Miss Holt didn’t want Joey to suffer the
same fate, so she made it a point to be as nice to him as possible despite the
fact that she hated working here.
“Just the Snickers bar and the can of Coke for today?” asked
Colleen with a smile when Joey Elkins approached the counter with those two
items. With a nod of the customer’s fuzzy head, the clerk rang him up and
announced the prices as two dollars even. When Joey pulled an EBT card out of
his lint-filled pocket, that was when Richard pulled his attention away from
the newspaper and gave him a wicked glare. Colleen ran the card and it
successfully went through. After giving Joey his receipt, she said in her cheeriest
voice, “Have a good one, buddy!”
“Good to know my tax dollars are being well spent,” said
Richard sarcastically.
“Excuse me?” asked Colleen with her arms folded defensively.
“Oh, nothing,” continued Richard. “It’s just that normally
when you buy something from a convenience store, you do it with your own
fucking money. There is no free lunch in this country. You’ve got to work your
ass off and earn everything you get. You can’t live off of the hard labor of
others like a goddamn leech!”
As soon as Joey trembled with anxiety, Colleen tried to step
in with, “Excuse me, sir, but you can’t…”
Richard held an open palm to Colleen’s face and said,
“Uh-uh! You’re not going to cut me off. This is a free country and I’m invoking
my first amendment rights. There’s no safe space for you or this mooch. So step
back for a few minutes and let me get this off my chest.”
Colleen felt the harshness radiating off of Richard like a
nuclear rod and slowly backed away. She knew she should do something about this
coldhearted oratory. It was not only her job as a convenience store clerk, but
also a human being with at least a shred of decency in her body. The anxious
energy in her gut told her to back off. Perhaps she was the next one to be
locked in a padded cell. Maybe Joey would make it there first since he was
already trembling like an earthquake going off in his body.
“As I was saying,” said Richard with a switchblade tongue as
he pointed at Joey repeatedly. “If you think you’re going to live off of my
hard work and take food off of my table, you’re sadly mistaken! Ditch the
pajama pants and the crappy T-shirt and get some real clothes so that someone
might actually hire you! You’ve got to make your own money and stop expecting
society to baby you through life!”
As Joey’s convulsing worsened to where he whimpered, Colleen
held up her finger and said, “To be fair…”
“Jesus Christ, lady, what now?!” snapped Richard.
“To be fair…” said Colleen in a shaky voice before clearing
her throat. “Welfare and social security are only a small part of the federal
budget. We…we…” After being told to spit it out by Richard, she said, “We spent
more on war than we do anything else.”
“War?! War?! You think we spend too much money on war?!”
shouted Richard. “Check out the jacket, missy! I used to be in the army! We
need war! There are terrorists out there who want to bomb the shit out of us
and you want to just sit back and do nothing?! That’s extremely disrespectful
to our military! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You want to talk about
people getting free shit?! Where’s my free shit?! Huh?! Where’s my social
security?! I served overseas and you don’t want to give me a damn thing?!”
Colleen just wanted to sink into the ground and cry for the
rest of her life. She was done for. Joey was done for. This cold-blooded snake
was going to send them both into a nervous breakdown. Not that he’d ever call
9-1-1 except to report an alleged abuse of the social security system. Just
when her nervous system was about to shatter like peanut brittle, she overheard
Joey pulling the tab on his Coke.
“What?! Uh-uh! No way!” bellowed Richard. “That’s my
Coca-Cola! My tax dollars paid for that Coke, so you’re going to give me a
drink! As a matter of fact, give me the whole fucking thing while you’re at
it!”
Ask and ye shall receive. Joey took a sip of Coke and spit a
brown sugary mist all over Richard’s now drenched face. Seeing that image
brought tears to Colleen’s eyes, but they were tears of laughter. “That was
awesome!” she said with a newfound sense of courage. “Give me five, buddy!” The
two high-fived and their anxieties were replaced with comical joy. No more
shaking. No more hurting (except for their ribcages). Just solidarity and
sweetness between two friends.
Richard, on the other hand, was trembling for a different
reason than anxiety. He seethed silently as he grabbed a paper towel and slowly
wiped the liquid candy off of his face. He didn’t even care that his cheeks
were still sticky with soda. He gritted his teeth and growled like a wolf
before attempting to lunge at Joey. He would have had his hands wrapped around
the kid’s neck if it wasn’t for Colleen diving across the counter and acting as
a barricade between Richard and Joey.
“I’m going to beat your fucking ass, you fucking jerk!” roared
Richard as he was being held back by Colleen, whose anxiety had been replaced
with lava hot adrenaline. She didn’t care that the man was twice her size;
there was no chance in hell he was going to let him hurt her favorite customer.
“Let go of me, damn it! I’m going to kill him!”
“Stop it! Stop it!” screamed Colleen and Richard suddenly
discontinued his struggle. “You are way out of line, Mister! You can have your
free speech and whatever, but you are not entitled to beat the shit out of a
mentally disabled man! You know what?! I’ve made up my mind! You’re blackballed
from this store! I have your face on the security cameras! I have your credit
card information! Your name is Richard T. Betts and you’re never coming back
here again! If you do, I’ll have the police come and take you away! Now get the
fuck out of my store!” Colleen never trembled so hard in her life. Her heart
never beat so quickly. Her head never ached that badly.
Richard spit on the floor and said, “Good, I don’t want to
come back to this dump anyways. In fact, I hope this place burns to the ground
with both of you trapped inside!” Colleen’s evil stare refused to change in the
midst of this bold threat. Nonetheless, Mr. Betts pointed at the teary-eyed
Joey and said, “And you! If I ever see you on the streets again, I’m going to
beat your fucking ass!” The ex-soldier stormed off and bumped his shoulder in
the door on his way out.
Colleen’s expression softened when she saw Joey’s tears
multiply and snot building up in his nostrils. “What a jerk! Are you okay,
buddy?”
“N…No!” sobbed Joey Elkins, who then received a tight hug
and a kiss on top of his shaved head from the equally teary Colleen Holt.
The two of them just stood there hugging it out and crying
on each other’s shoulders. Colleen gently whispered, “It’ll be okay, Joey.
It’ll all be okay. He’s never coming back again. I promise I won’t let him hurt
you anymore.”
“Why do people have to be mean to each other? All I wanted
was something to eat and drink!” quivered Joey.
“I know, buddy. I know. I would never look down on you for
using a food stamp card. You’re too sweet to me,” said Colleen. She barely
noticed a customer standing at the counter with a case of beer tapping his foot
impatiently.
She snapped at him, “Hey! Give us a minute! You’ll get your
goddamn beer soon enough! Jesus Christ!” She continued to hold Joey in her arms
and whisper, “I’m sorry this happened to you. I really am.”
The impatient customer cursed and walked out the door.
Colleen didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck. Comforting Joey and making
sure he wasn’t alone in this world was more important than a case of beer…and
even more important than Richard Betts’s precious tax dollars.
