Shopping carts.

Marshall Wilkerson! Fifth rung, starboard side! I dedicate my part of the boat to interracial homoeroticism!

Clomp clomp.

Footsteps up the stairs to the music department. There's an inflatable Led Zeppelin display blimp hanging from the ceiling. The redhead asks everyone he sees how he can get his mitts on it, but nobody knows. He scares away several small children and old women, all of whom never return to the state of Texas solely for this reason. Finally, he tracks down the head of the music department. Defeat: the zeppelin has already been claimed. Hopes are dashed to miniscule, scintillating fragments. Tears are, however, restrained - there's always eBay.

The doors open.

It's late at night. Streetlights are scattered around, roughly half of them are operational, you can barely see. Three guys walk out of the bookstore and begin their journey to Starbucks. Footsteps. They joke and laugh.

Metal on metal.

They can hardly make out their own feet; they have no idea what they're stepping on. The gummy ground sucks at their feet. One collides with a car and makes a satisfying slapping noise. They laugh. Rather, two of them laugh and the third attempts to mold his nose into its former shape.

Rattling.

The three gentlemen look around, bewildered. They heard something. Silhouetted against the lamplight is a roughly cubic contraption, a lattice of metalwork, waist-high. It's moving. Fast. It comes closer and they see someone inside it, someone else pushing it. The one propelling the thing emits a piercing cackle.

"I'm sorry!"

The muffled sound of apologies wafts from the cart's occupant. It hurtles forward. the operator lets go. It soars ahead for a few seconds. Both of its front wheels strike the cement median at the same time. A body is ejected from the contraption. It soars through the air. It thuds wetly against the concrete.

I love a little after-dinner entertainment.

Comments

JR it was only you and me, there was no third person. It was after watching the godsent movie "Death to Smoochy" a very misleading title that made everyone say im not going to see that, im not gay.

[electricidiom]

I've had twenty people come up to me and say that they were the only person there.