1:

Mrs. Smith picked up a package of baloney off the hook. "Patty dear, would you like anything else for lunch?"

The large sixth grader looked at the full rows of cheese and sandwich meats. "Well there is one thing…" She walked down a little further where the hooks turned into shelves. She picked a plastic yellow square. "May I please get these?"

Her mother took it. "Lunchables?"

"They're really good, Mom. They have crackers and cheese and a drink, and look. It even comes with a little chocolate square."

"Sounds delicious." Mrs. Smith looked at the price attached to the shelf. "Oh dear me!"

"What is it, Mom?"

"It's just that it's so expensive for an awfully little bit of food…" Patty looked disappointed. Mrs. Smith hated that look. Patty rarely asked for anything special at the store. "Well, I guess we could. I mean, I'll just have to put one loaf of bread back, but..."

Patty took the package back. "No Mom, I don't need it." She placed it on the shelf with the others.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Mom." Patty gave her a small smile. "Baloney is just fine. Really." She began to push the cart away. "Canned veggies next?"

"You got it."

As the mother and daughter pair moved down the aisle, a man with fallow brown skin peeked at them from behind a magazine. He had a black goatee, a shiny shaved head, sunglasses, and was wearing a lavender colored suit and dark purple tie. Placing the magazine back over his face, he began to push his cart after them.

Neither noticed. "Mom," asked Patty. "Is something wrong? I mean, you're buying all generic stuff again."

Mrs. Smith sighed and picked up a can of store brand lima beans. "Money's just a little tight right now. The DMV is cutting back my hours and there's a strike at your father's factory, so things aren't going so good there either. In fact, he's probably going to lose his job soon."

"Why's that, Mom?" Patty checked the list and reached for a can of sweet potatoes that was beyond her mother's short arms.

"Bagheera Shoes is moving overseas to China or Taiwan. One of those Asian countries where the labor is cheaper. But its okay," said Mrs. Smith. "We've been broke before and we'll probably be broke again, but we always survive. Let's get some food for Mittel, and then we can go and pick up your father."

As they started to turn, Patty stopped. "What's the matter, Dear?" Asked her mother.

Patty frowned. She was watching the man in purple, who still had the magazine over his face and was blindly groping at cans.

"Why doesn't he take the magazine down?" Asked Patty suspiciously.

"He's probably just absorbed in a good article," said Mrs. Smith. "Now come along, Sweetie."

As soon as they were gone, he pulled down the magazine and smiled. He reached inside his purple jacket and pulled out a cell phone. Speed dialing, he put it to his ear. "Yeah, Jerry? I think I found the ones we're looking for…"

There was a mob of people surrounding the car as Mrs. Smith tried to navigate toward the giant factory. They held signs and chanted, "OUTSOURCING UNFAIR! OUTSOURCING UNFAIR!"

Patty slunk down in her seat. She was a big girl, fully capable of defending of herself, but even this crowd made her nervous.

"There he is!" Mrs. Smith said. She guided the car slowly toward the factory doors where Mr. Smith was waiting. He wore a hard helmet and held a big metal lunchbox. He waved.

As the vehicle got closer, the swarm began to close in. Protestors began to bang angrily on the roof and windows. Mrs. Smith blasted the horn but it did no good.

Mr. Smith was fighting his way through the mess when suddenly someone yelled, "Scab! Get the scab!" Someone grabbed him.

"Please!" He pleaded. "I'm only doing this to support my family!"

Patty slammed the car door open so hard it banged. She roughly shoved the strikers aside and marched up to the man who was holding her father. "Let him go. Now." She ordered.

The man sneered. "Or what are you going to do, girly? You don't want me hurting your midget daddy…" In a second the striker was on the ground, blood trickling from his lower lip.

Patty rubbed her knuckles. "He's a dwarf, Scum Face." She looked at the rest of the crowd. "Anyone else?"

Automatically everyone stepped aside, clearing a path to the car. "Come on, Dad. Let's go home."

As Patty held the car door open for her father, Mrs. Smith cried, "Henry, Patty, are you ok?"

Patty slid into the back and held up her hand. "My knuckles kinda hurt."

"We'll get some ice for them when we get home, Sweetie." Mrs. Smith put the car in drive. As they pulled out, no one noticed the black sports car across the street begin to follow.

As the Smiths neared their home, Mrs. Smith said, "Oh no, Henry! I just thought of something! How are we going to pay rent this month? We already cancelled cable and the phone! Where are we going to come up with the money for our lease?"

Patty leaned over the front seat. "You don't have to give me my allowance."

"Patty!"

"Come on, I don't need it. And if you want, you can have my savings too. I've got thirty-four dollars."

Mr. Smith looked at his wife. "It couldn't hurt, Zelda…" He said quietly.

"Henry!" To Patty, she said, "Dear, you're far too generous. You shouldn't have to suffer because times are tough. No, you keep your money." She parked in front of the house.

As Patty got out and unlocked the trunk, the black sports car stopped and the man in purple stepped out. "Hey, I know you." Patty said. "You were at the grocery store. What do you want?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Henry and Zelda Smith?"

Mrs. Smith looked a little uneasy. "Y-Yes?"

The man in purple reached into his jacket. Quick as a flash, Patty was in front of her parents. "Back off, Buddy." She held up a fist.

He gently pushed it down. "You're spunky! I like that! I like it a lot!"

"Huh?"

He reached back into his jacket. "My card!"

He handed it to Mr. Smith, who read, "'Lyle J. Lyleson. Television Producer.'"

"That's right! And you must be their charming daughter, Patsy."

"Patty." She answered. She didn't like this stranger.

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I am prepared to offer you the chance of a lifetime!" He held up his hands. "Your very own reality show!"

"What are you talking about?" Asked Patty.

"Let's go inside and talk it over. Billy, Jerry, Todd?" Three other men got out of the black car. He gave an oily smile. "Come on now, don't be shy!"