The Knick Knack Nightmare by C.M. Bacon

Author:C.M. Bacon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CMB Fiction
Published: 2018-06-01T07:29:54+00:00

Garden Glen’s lasers pulsed and spun in the clouds far ahead. Those same four words appeared. Then the letters fell apart. Their lines formed colorful shapes that flashed and swirled, grew and merged, separated, and exploded. A plan took shape in my mind. I made a list of supplies, places to go, things to do, ways to escape if I failed, and the aftermath if I succeeded. Either way, I was going to end this nightmare.

Twenty minutes passed before - tired and hungry - I arrived at Clover Crossing. I wouldn’t call it a mall. Garden Glen redefined that word for me. Rather, it was a haphazard collection of specialty shops and marts lined in five rows moving outward from a large, brick building at the center. Tables and benches sat between each row, ready for the occasional Fiesta Sale or outdoor flower market. If someone in Shelbyville wanted kimchi, exotic spices, comic books and video games, or cheap electronics, this is where they’d go. Buen Provecho was the closest mart to the alley. My mouth watered at the thought of salsa and cold burritos. But first, I had to cross a six-lane road.

I stepped into 59th street as a car with a broken headlight flew around the corner. The blue hatchback swerved, tires screeching. It sped past and skidded to a halt a few feet away, leaving two wide, black streaks in the road. The door opened and a rubber troll doll fell out. It got up, fluffed its purple hair, and jumped at the car door as the driver pulled out. The car sped off with the rubber troll hanging from the door seam by its hair. It waved and gave me a thumbs up. I returned the greeting and shouted, “Good luck!” Good luck? I was losing my mind or so hungry, I thought wishing good fortune on a psychotic knick-knack was the right thing to do. Burritos! Burritos will save me.

I entered through Buen Provecho’s broken double doors. Whoever had smashed them was tidier than me. Inside the mart, a large rock rested on a pile of broken glass swept into a corner by the cash registers. A crumpled dollar bill laid on the counter. The trash can overflowed with beef jerky wrappers and empty bottles of horchata. Some poor, honest thief must’ve been chased outside and was running around, kicking in doors, smashing windows, and eating other people’s food. And it wasn’t me this time. The shop was dark, but what I wanted was close enough. I didn’t have to go far.

The checkout stand was on my left by the entry and a few feet on my right, past a display of green and brown mole sauce, freezers stood, packed with food. I opened the first freezer. Water dripped off the doors and puddled on the tiled floor. I dug through soggy boxes of tortillas, empanadas, tamales, and found the burritos. I took an XXL from the bottom shelf. It was a squishy mound in my fist.

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