Chapter 2
Meanwhile, at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store a mere eighth of a mile away from the Dookie Diner, Ruby Jackson shuffled along the sidewalk under the supermarket's awning in a pair of filthy, light blue fuzzy bedroom slippers. She wore a shiny, paisley polyester housecoat in tasteful gold, black and beige tones. A stylish, bright blonde beehive wig topped off the look, standing out in contrast to her dark eyes and skin. A cigarette dangled from her slack, toothless mouth.
As she shuffled, a buzzing sound ignited overhead. The Y in Wiggly, always a burr in the behind of the manager, was acting up again, flashing and dimming alternately before it spurted out a brief rain of high voltage electrical sparks onto Ruby's head before dying completely. The wig, made of highly flammable man-made materials, burst into flames.
Ruby caught a whiff of burning plastic and began screaming.
"My wig! My wig's on fi-yah!" Ruby hollered, her cigarette seesawing up and down on her lip. "My pride an' joy, it's my wig, and I jest made the last payment on it!"
Ruby snatched the wig off her head and threw it on the sidewalk. She stomped it four or five times with her matted fuzzy bedroom slippers until the flames died. She cursed, picked up the wig, and marched into the Piggly Wiggl.
"I demand to speak to the manager!" Ruby shouted at the cashier. [Author's note: Ruby's dialogue is intended to be read as subtitles, as her syllables are unintelligible due to her lack of teeth and poor state of mental health.]
Mr. Kibble, the store's day manager, appeared from his useless office and stood patiently behind the check cashing counter while Ruby shouted and shook the half-burned, still-smoking wig at him.
"I'm gonna sue! I kill you! I kill you for rerr-nin' this wig that's my pride and joy!" Ruby threatened.
Mr. Kibble, a middle-aged bachelor who smelled of cheap aftershave, was new on the job. He suffered from a slight case of Negrophobia* [See author's note at end regarding this term, coined by African-American Darius James to denote a stereotypical fear of black people], so at the sight of the toothless and bald Ruby screaming nonsensically and waving her smoking blonde wig, he stepped on the Panic Button under the check cashing counter to summon the authorities and extricate himself from this most strange incidence of destroyed property.
Meanwhile, at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store a mere eighth of a mile away from the Dookie Diner, Ruby Jackson shuffled along the sidewalk under the supermarket's awning in a pair of filthy, light blue fuzzy bedroom slippers. She wore a shiny, paisley polyester housecoat in tasteful gold, black and beige tones. A stylish, bright blonde beehive wig topped off the look, standing out in contrast to her dark eyes and skin. A cigarette dangled from her slack, toothless mouth.
As she shuffled, a buzzing sound ignited overhead. The Y in Wiggly, always a burr in the behind of the manager, was acting up again, flashing and dimming alternately before it spurted out a brief rain of high voltage electrical sparks onto Ruby's head before dying completely. The wig, made of highly flammable man-made materials, burst into flames.
Ruby caught a whiff of burning plastic and began screaming.
"My wig! My wig's on fi-yah!" Ruby hollered, her cigarette seesawing up and down on her lip. "My pride an' joy, it's my wig, and I jest made the last payment on it!"
Ruby snatched the wig off her head and threw it on the sidewalk. She stomped it four or five times with her matted fuzzy bedroom slippers until the flames died. She cursed, picked up the wig, and marched into the Piggly Wiggl.
"I demand to speak to the manager!" Ruby shouted at the cashier. [Author's note: Ruby's dialogue is intended to be read as subtitles, as her syllables are unintelligible due to her lack of teeth and poor state of mental health.]
Mr. Kibble, the store's day manager, appeared from his useless office and stood patiently behind the check cashing counter while Ruby shouted and shook the half-burned, still-smoking wig at him.
"I'm gonna sue! I kill you! I kill you for rerr-nin' this wig that's my pride and joy!" Ruby threatened.
Mr. Kibble, a middle-aged bachelor who smelled of cheap aftershave, was new on the job. He suffered from a slight case of Negrophobia* [See author's note at end regarding this term, coined by African-American Darius James to denote a stereotypical fear of black people], so at the sight of the toothless and bald Ruby screaming nonsensically and waving her smoking blonde wig, he stepped on the Panic Button under the check cashing counter to summon the authorities and extricate himself from this most strange incidence of destroyed property.