Right On Target

3

It was Sunday night and it was going slower than the kids with the helmets at Alex's school. He checked out customers and bagged their stuff for a few hours. One of the girls bought pads; it was obvious she was on her period even though she claimed the pads were for her mom. He didn't understand why girls were so weird about admitting that they shed their uterine lining monthly. He certainly wasn't embarrassed to admit that he farted a lot--it's a natural occurrence (even if Rosa, the older cashier at the counter next to him would always wave her hand in front of her face complaining of a smell "mas peor que la carne podrida"). The girl was very strange but she was also kind of cute. He wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with a girl who perioded all over her jeans, though, which is what she did.

She sat in the Starbucks on his break sipping a coffee. It was going to be a long night, and he wanted to pump as much caffeine into his bloodstream as possible.

At 10 pm the store closed for the night. Of course there were a few stragglers who insisted on taking their time. A couple of college frat bros were buying beer, an older lady in house slippers buying buku cat food, and a distraught looking new mother buying a baby accoutrements. He and Erique split the checkout duties while Doug and the others moved the boxes out of the back room.

When he arrived at the electronics section, he was surprised to see the sheer volume of Taylor Swift paraphernalia waiting to be stocked. You name it, Taylor Swift emblazoned her name across it. He sighed. He enjoyed Taylor Swift visually even if her sonic persona were not his style exactly.

They cut open the boxes with their box cutters and revealed masses upon masssses of the Target deluxe edition of 1989. As Doug and Curtis began filling the shelves in the back with the CDs, Alex said, "I think I'll take a box and fill the endcap at the front of the store." With that, he pulled one of the buggies holding a box of CDs and made his way away from the others.

As he passed the girls' clothing section, he thought he heard something. Laughter. He turned his head so fast he may have gotten whiplash. He wondered if it were the guys back in electronics. No, he reasoned; they're too far away for me to be able to hear them still. It was his imagination, he settled, so he journeyed on. He was surprised at how much the CDs weighed.

As he manoeuvred the box around a corner, he heard it again. A gentle giggle, this time coupled with the pitter patter of tiny feet and (maybe it was only in his mind) but the chimes sound effect they play in movies when elves or fairies are afoot.

He squinted see beyond the racks of clothes but saw nothing. He ventured off the tiled walkway and onto the carpeted section. As heard his own footfalls, he confirmed it was the pitter patter of feetsies he had heard. He checked the center sections of all the circular racks. Probably someone had left their child in the store and the child was now playing the world's scariest game of hide-and-seek.

He walked past a rack of tacky Christmas sweaters, not giving it another look. Suddenly he felt a bony hand upon his shoulder. It gripped him hard and yanked back, knocking him off his feet. It happened so quickly he didn't have time to see who or what had grabbed him--he didn't even have time to scream.