Step On A Crack

Chapter IV

George felt somewhat better as he approached Johnsten's Grocery and Hardware Store. Although his body still complained of injury, he had regained his breath and the headache was now localized to only one side of his skull. He yawned and thought about  taking a nap when he got home. George knew it would only be a matter of time before his powerful internal energy was able to heal his injuries. However, his physical form needed the rest to draw in more power from the universe.

The door dinged as George entered the building. Unexpectedly, an elderly woman tripped and fell a few meters away from the limping man, dislodging a magazine rack she grabbed to stop her fall. The collection of books and magazines attached to the register spread over the floor like water. Her large bag fell from her shoulder and its contents also scattered across the white, commercial tile. 

George slipped on one of the magazines, however he managed to regain his balance, only to stumble over one of the items rolling from the woman's bag, a compact, red umbrella. Catching himself on the end of a conveniently placed cash register counter, he growled and then snatched the object up from between his Converse All-Stars. George glared at the old woman attempting to stand with the assistance of a store clerk and one rotund security guard.  The large man's name tag indicated he was called 'Pete'.

"Cleanup by the registers!" nasally barked a loudspeaker from overhead.

The clearly embarrassed woman smiled uncomfortably at the handful of people surrounding her near the dated checkout registers. "I'm so sorry," she said shakily.

"It's alright, ma'am," Pete replied with a gentle smile of concern.

"Ahem! I assume this is yours? You know, this piece of shit nearly tripped me and then I would have looked just as ridiculous as your ancient ass," George said angrily, stepping over toward the collection of people. "At any rate, here's your umbrella, you senile old bat! Don't know why in the hell you would need it. If you ever watched the fucking news you would know it wasn't going to rain today."

"Excuse me, son?" the old woman asked in confusion, taken aback by the unwarranted insults. 

"You wish, lady. Look, I need to get a fucking loaf of bread for my actual bitch of a mom and you and the rest of these mindless fucking troglodytes are holding me up. I really need to get home and get some rest, goddammit!" George impatiently shook the umbrella at her.

The old woman, the clerk, and several customers all glanced around at each other in astonishment at the bleeding, disheveled asshole standing before them. They stood like statues watching the man spew profanities and insults about like a verbal wood chipper.

"Dude, what is your problem? Just give it to me!" Pete commanded angrily, he clinched his fists and stepped forward.

George flipped the crimson object over in his hand and gripped it by the handle to present it like a scepter to the guard. He stabbed it forward toward Pete. "Finally! Someone with a wee bit of gray matter. Now, let me be on..." The umbrella exploded open, startling the old woman, the store clerk, and Pete. The sudden action sent the senior citizen tumbling backward into a stack of canned vegetables, knocking the display over.

"Oh, my God!" someone screamed.

Pete and the store clerk scurried over to help the woman once more.

George shrugged his shoulders and tossed the open umbrella to his side, stepping over several cans of vegetables that rolled around his feet.

"She's not breathing!" the clerk said.

"I don't have a pulse," Pete exclaimed. "Someone call 911!"

George froze as several customers stood in front of him. "What? Out of my way!"

A young man wearing a hoodie jammed a finger in George's face. "You killed her, you psychotic mother fucker!"

"Yeah, you're a murderer!" shouted another.

"Murderer? Me? Spare me; you need to be on your way, before..." George saw a flash of something in his peripheral vision. He turned his head just in time to catch Pete's fist squarely in his face. For the third time today, George saw stars on the surface of the Earth.

Some time later, George came to on the cold tile floor of the grocery store and heared people cheering. Their joyous sounds echoed throughout the building.

"She's alive! Yaaayyy!"

The amazing specimen of a man that was George slowly sat up, placing his hands on each side of his head. "Dammit, what happened?" He looked up and found two men standing over him: Pete the security guard and a police officer.

"A lot less than what should have, dickhead," remarked Pete. He looked over at the policeman. "Can we press charges?"

"For what? Being an asshole? If that were the case, then half the city would be in jail," the officer replied. "Assault with a deadly umbrella isn't on the books, luckily for you." The policemen pointed a pen at George and frowned.

George smiled momentarily, but the expression was replaced quickly  with one of pain as his head throbbed once more.

"Regardless, if I were you, ummm, George," the police officer said, looking at George's state-issued photo ID. He held the card out to George and glanced around at the angry faces. "I would get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. Once me and my partner leave, you are on your own, pal."

With a wince, George stood and took his ID card from the patrolman. He shoved the object in the front pocket of his gray jogging pants and looked over at Pete. "What about my bread?" Something soft hit George in the back. He turned and looked down to find a crushed loaf of bread lying on the ground.

"Now, get the hell out of here and never come back, shithead!" the store clerk exclaimed.