"Look at the pawns standing outside like cattle. We are gonna milk them dry," Mr. Johnson said over the store's intercom system. He was a large man with no few then three rolls of fat above his muffin top and it was clear to his employees that thanksgiving was a daily ritual for a glutton such as he. At just forty two years old he walked like a senior citizen penguin which garnered more than a few laughs just out of earshot. The fact he made his employees come to work at two in the afternoon on thanksgiving was a travesty that warranted indictment, but no one had the balls to call him on it. The sad truth was everyone at Johnson's store needed the income.
"They're people looking for a deal, Mr. Johnson," Jacquelyn said. She was the new girl and didn't know not to speak that way to the boss. Her hair was dyed pink and she had glittered stars on the outside of her eyes which made her look part emo and part craving for attention.
Her words stifled the laughter in the store from Mr. Johnson's initial remark. Not that it was funny, but survival of the fittest meant you catered to his ego from time to time. Jacqueline was spared by the sound of the door opening prematurely. In walked a man no older than thirty with a long coat and a scowl on his face. "Harold! We aren't open yet you idiot!" Mr. Johnson cried as the unwelcome former employee stalked up to him. "Get out of here before I call the cops," he demanded.
Harold just stood there stoically in front of the four hundred pound tyrant. "It should be illegal for you to make these people work on a holiday," Harold scolded. His left eye twitched in a way that made him look psychotic.
"I told you the last time; this is my store and I make the rules here. Now, are you going to leave or am I gonna have to call the cops?" Mr. Johnson said.
Harold raise his hand and pointed a once concealed pistol in the man's face. "Everyone get out," he ordered. The already awkward feeling in the room grew tighter as the employees moved slowly out the exit doors. One by one they walked through the automatic doors.
Suddenly alone with the enraged younger man, Mr. Johnson's attitude changed. "Look, I'm sorry. We're cool, Harold. I'll send them home with full pay and close down. Just please don't pull the trigger," he was practically in tears.
Harold kept his eye on the fat older man and a grin curled his lips as he pulled the trigger. Mr Johnson yelped like a beaten dog as soapy water flooded into his eyes. All the while Harold continued spritzing him in the face with a look of elation on his face. Harold might not have a job for thanksgiving, but at least he felt better rescuing his former coworkers from the greedy ownership of working for the man. It was a good feeling he kept until the handcuffs clasped tightly around his wrist and he was hauled away to jail. It was a small price to pay for doing the right thing. At least that was how the newspaper presented it on Black Friday.
The End
