Sold Out
"What do you mean, 'sold out'?!"
The brutish man wearing a hide jacket shrugged his meaty shoulders. "It means what it's supposed to mean," he answered gruffly.
"But I was just here a week ago and there were plenty of arrows for sale!" sputtered a much smaller man, his nose barely reaching over the counter's edge.
"Last week's business isn't this week's business. We're sold out."
"But...but this is ridiculous!" the other stammered. "And I'll tell you why it's ridiculous! I always buy my supply of arrows here. You should know that because you're the one I always purchase them from. I should be a preferred customer's for coming here so often, but instead I'm treated to this! I shouldn't have to remind you that today is a week before the great horseback archery contest, and I still need more practice."
The shop owner raised an eyebrow. "You're going to compete?"
There was a moment of awkward silence. "What are you suggesting?" squeaked the small man.
The larger of the two let out a light chuckle then snorted in his amusement. "Alright, alright. What happened to all the other arrows that I sold you? Did you run out already?"
"You're one to talk!" he shot back. "At least I'm not the one who's sold out."
The tall man wagged a finger in response. "Touché, little man. Business has been good lately. Besides, you said it yourself that there's an upcoming contest in archery, and this store just happens to stock up on arrows. Is it truly any wonder that there aren't any left?"
"But if I don't have arrows how can I possibly be ready to compete by next week?"
"Look. I can't magically produce arrows out of thin air. There are none currently in stock." He paused, eyed his nervously twitching customer then let out a sigh. "I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done except to wish you the best of luck next week at the contest." He offered the smaller man a meaty hand to shake.
"You...you're impossible!" he cried, flinging his arms up in exasperation.
The shop owner grinned. "No. I'm just sold out."
The little man walked two paces towards the exit, then turned back quickly with clenched fists. "I need those arrows!" The man in the hide tunic nonchalantly flexed the large muscles in his arms and on his barrel of a chest. "You can't talk this way to me!"
"Did I say something just now?"
"I'm a customer, you know. You're lucky your boss isn't here to see such treatment in his store."
"Hey, shorty, I am the boss. I own and manage this shop. All these goods are mine to sell. And you," he said, pointing a thick finger in the other's direction, "are making a scene in my store."
A customer walked by and, to no one in particular, muttered under his breath, "Yeah, I'm pretty offended right now."
The small man watched the customer shuffle by. "Clearly," he stated, unamused.
The shop owner tapped the fingers of his right hand rhythmically on the counter-top and asked, "Yup. An offended customer. Time for you to get going."
"I still don't have any arrows!"
The big man silently ground his teeth together, annoyance just about to burst through his cool composure. As if to save him from any unsightly thing he could have done—and possibly would have done—to the pesky customer, the door to his shop opened up, and a trim figure wearing a green tunic and hat walked through, confidence in his every step.
"Stagg!" the new arrival cried out cheerfully. He walked right up to the counter to stop next to the smaller man.
"Link!" Stagg boomed in reply. He reached out with one of his huge hairy hands to shake Link's. "You're just in time!"
"Ah, you mean that my order's ready," asserted Link with a quick nod.
"Your order…now, which order was that again?"
"Aw, c'mon, Stagg. You can't fool me."
"Fool you? You, the king of all fools? And I only say this because you have got to be some kind of crazy to sign up for that horseback archery contest."
"I take offense at that," muttered the small man, ignored by all around him.
"Well, I'm not turning back now, that's for sure," stated Link. "So enough stalling already. Where's my order?"
"Oh, you mean the forty-five specially-made arrows that you preordered?"
"Those are the ones."
The small man standing next to Link harrumphed and shook his head. "Sorry, but you're too late. This guy's all sold out of arrows." Stagg reached behind the counter and pulled up a few bundles of arrows tied together by twine cords. The small man's jaw dropped.
"Now, there may be a few extra here," explained Stagg. "I figured you would need them."
Link whistled and ran a finger along the shaft of an arrow. "Nice work, as always. How much do I owe you?"
Stagg shrugged. "I'd say twenty-five rupees is fair."
Link tossed the big man a shiny amethyst rupee piece. "Well, there may be a bit extra there, but I figure you'll need it."
The shop owner hummed as he closely admired the shiny gem, and Link gathered up his new arrows from off the counter. "Well, aren't you just the hero of business," Stagg playfully quipped.
Link smiled at that. "Hero of business, eh? Are you sure that will catch on?"
"You have a point. Maybe we'll just leave the title at Hero of Time."
Link, bundle in tow, walked toward the exit of the shop. "I'll see you at the contest," he said with a wave of his free hand.
"Wouldn't want to miss the king of fools, now, would I?" he called back just as the door closed shut. The shop owner noticed the small man still standing in front of his counter.
"Sold out?" snarled the little person, on the verge of hyperventilation. "Really?"
"Sold out."
End
