A Bad Day at Kroger
Tightly hugging the slim neck of a twenty-ounce Coca-Cola bottle, Alvin Seville patiently waited in line to check out his item. Originally, he had come down to Kroger to buy groceries for Dave so he could prepare dinner, but with it being eighty-eight degrees outside Alvin had figured that it wouldn't hurt to spend the money Dave had given him on a soda. In his pocket he had three dollars, and the Coke that he was holding cost two dollars and thirty-eight cents, which would only leave him with sixty-nine cents, enough for another soda if he preferred. Since he had skipped lunch earlier in the day, however, he felt himself feeling hungry and thought that a small snack-something like a candy bar sounded good right about now-would tide him over until dinnertime. In his other pocket he had approximately twenty dollars and fifty cents. Well, he used to. He had no clue what had happened to the money during his walk to the store. It must have fallen out of his pocket along the way, he assumed. No doubt that Dave, suspecting Alvin to forget to buy the groceries as ordered, had sent Simon to get them for him, being that the younger chipmunk was more trustworthy.
Alvin began tapping his foot against the floor, beginning to lose his patience. The cashier was taking her sweet little time with scanning each individual item and typing in the information for a monetary exchange. He let out an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes, shaking his head afterwards. Why had he picked this lane in the first place? The cashier was an elderly woman who looked to be in her seventies. Therefore, she had no business working at Kroger. In his opinion, she should have been at home waiting for Death to arrive and take her to wherever she would end up at in the afterlife. But she wasn't, and she was starting to irritate the piss out of him by taking her time. The line was long enough without her doing so, and it was only getting longer, Alvin noticed as he looked over his shoulder at the multiple people standing behind him.
"Excuse me, sir?"
Alvin turned his head to the right to see a short stout Caucasian green-eyed woman with short black hair smiling at him. When he pointed to himself, she gave him a nod, indicating that she was indeed talking to him.
"Would you like to come over here where I am?" the woman inquired. "The line is much shorter."
Alvin, not wanting to seem rude, shook his head. "No thanks. I think I'll just wait."
"Oh, please," the woman pleaded. "I insist!"
Alvin shrugged. To the best of his ability, he made his way to the beginning of the lane and went to the lane right beside it until he was standing by the woman.
"Do you have money to pay for that drink?" the woman questioned, pointing to the Coke that Alvin still held in his hand.
"Uh . . ." Alvin began.
"Oh, don't worry, hon," the woman replied. "I'll buy it for you."
"No, no, no," Alvin replied, shaking his head. "That's very nice of you, but-"
"Nonsense. I insist."
Alvin sighed and figured that since he couldn't talk her out of the idea, he decided he'd let her buy his drink for him, though he had his own money to do so. He honestly didn't want her to do so, thinking that her doing so would be him taking advantage of her. Still, if it got him a free soda, then he figured he could let her buy it for him.
The woman was right. The line did appear to be shorter in this lane than in the previous one that Alvin had been in. The cashier at this one was a young man. Being that such was the case, Alvin and the woman found themselves getting Alvin's Coke scanned within minutes. The woman handed Alvin the Coke ("here you go, dear," she'd said) and then began digging in her purse for the money to pay for the drink before Alvin could say or do anything. He felt bad for letting her buy the drink for him, feeling like he was robbing her of good money. He quickly realized, however, that he could not talk her out of it and therefore, was left with the task of walking off while the woman paid the cashier for the Coke.
As he neared the exit, Alvin heard his stomach growl, indicating that he was hungry. He quickly turned on his heel and began making his way to an individual U-Scan. Just like all of the other lanes, the U-Scan lanes also had candy bars, miniature bags of potato chips and snacks foods, and packages of gum lined in neat little rows on shelves beside the scanner. He jumped when he heard a voice behind him ask, "You're not going to pay for that drink after I already paid for it myself, are you, dear?" He turned his head to see the woman behind him. What had she gotten her items scanned and paid for that fast? He decided that it didn't matter in the slightest and shook his head in response to her question. "No, ma'am, I'm just looking." She gave a nod and said, "Okey-dokey, then," before walking off.
Alvin turned back to the various candy bars that were before him, pondering which one he should get. He was quite fond of Kit-Kat and Reese's, but he was more of a fan of candy bars like Snickers or 3 Musketeers. He was about to grab a Snickers-for sixty-nine cents-when a hand grabbed his arm. He jumped and, upon instinct, reared back his fist to punch his attacker. Turning his head, he saw a tall, fat balding Caucasian male with a brown goatee glaring at him. He examined the man. Noticing the tag attached to his light blue long-sleeve button-down shirt that read, "Security," his eyes widened as he thought, Oh, shit!
"Son," the man said angrily, "you need to pay for that Coke and pay for it now before I call the cops and report you for stealing."
Alvin found it nearly impossible to speak. He'd never been in a situation such as this and he was extremely frightened by the sudden danger that presented itself to him. He suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to urinate. He felt his grip on the bottle of Coke loosen as fear gripped his entire body. A soft squeak of discomfort escaped his throat as the man tightened his grip on the chipmunk's arm, glaring at him hatefully.
"I said," the security guard growled through clenched teeth, "pay for the Coke or I'm calling the cops."
"A-A-A-A woman already paid for it," Alvin stammered as the man's fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm that was protected by the fabric of his sweater.
"You're lying," the security guard accused. "You're a liar. I saw you myself. You walked over there . . ." He pointed to a nearby container that contained the ice-cold beverages. ". . . you got a Coke and you almost walked out of here without paying for it, but I'm glad you returned to pay for it. Now, pay for the Coke!"
Alvin's eyes became moist as he felt fresh tears start to swell up in them. Due to the pain in his arm or the fear that gripped him with every fiber in his body, he didn't know.
"Oh, God, you're not going to start crying, are you?" the security guard demanded. He gripped the red cap of the bottle that Alvin was just barely holding in his hand. "Why don't you give me this and go cry home to your Mommy?"
Alvin was trying his best not to cry. He didn't much care for the guard mocking him. He was scared. What child wouldn't cry and wet their pants if faced with the same situation? "I-I-I-I already told you, it's been paid for; don't worry about it." He suddenly found himself staring back at the man's angry gray eyes as the man tightly gripped him by his sweater and pulled him close. Now Alvin was completely terrified. He was begging for someone-anyone-to come to his rescue. But no. The people went about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary was wrong.
"I do worry about it," the security guard declared. "You either pay for the fucking Coke, or I'll report your sorry ass to the police. Your choice, kid."
"Let go of me," Alvin retorted angrily, nearly screaming the statement. He struggled against the man's grip, but the man did not let go.
The security guard finally let Alvin go. The red-clad chipmunk let out a sigh, but frowned upon feeling a wet spot near his crotch. He grabbed a Snickers and walked over to the U-Scan. As he placed the item on the scanner, a hand grabbed his wrist and tightly squeezed.
"No, no, no, no, no," the security guard growled. "You don't listen very well, do you, kid? I said pay for the drink. Put this back and pay for the damned Coke."
"But I don't have enough money," Alvin replied. "Besides, I already told you that some lady already paid for the drink."
"What lady?"
"I don't know."
"Do you have the receipt?"
"No."
"So I guess that makes you a liar, huh?"
Alvin said nothing in response.
"How much money do you have?" the security guard questioned.
"Only three dollars," Alvin remarked.
"So you don't have enough to purchase both the Coke and the candy bar?"
Alvin shook his head. "No, sir."
The security guard let out an annoyed sigh as he dug out his wallet. "Okay, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to pay for the drink and the candy bar-"
"Thank you."
"Shut up. I'm going to pay for the drink and the candy bar. I could be calling the police and reporting you for stealing. I'm not going to do that. If you went to prison for stealing, all that would do is teach you to be a better thief. I better not catch you in here trying to steal anything again, and the next time I do I'm going to report your sorry ass to the police, no questions asked. Do you understand me?"
Alvin nodded. "Yes."
The security guard irritably paid for the items and then told Alvin, "Now get the hell out of here!" He roughly shoved the chipmunk towards the exit.
Walking along the sidewalk, Alvin let out a sigh of relief. He stopped and rested along the brick wall of a building, sliding down its length until he was sitting on the ground with his knees drawn up to his chest. He folded his arms across his knees and buried his face in them, his body shivering as he sobbed. While he was relieved that he was not going to jail, the situation had still terrified him beyond belief and he hoped that such a situation would never happen to him again. Grabbing his drink, he stood up and began walking down the sidewalk once again, his mind filled with the question: Should I tell Dave about the security guard? While contemplating this question, he kept walking, his head bowed, his eyes directed at his shoes that guided him along the sidewalk, heading for home. It was only after he came to a sudden realization that he stopped. Ah, damn it, he thought. I forgot my candy bar!