I was checkout-girl at work yesterday. I had a never-ending stream of customers all night: wrinkly old people buying cheap cigarettes, smelly guys buying condoms, a girl with Vogue and mascara in her basket, high schoolers buying energy drinks (for what? they didn’t have school today), parents with little hellion children. One mom let her two boys each pick out a candy bar. Then there were more guys bribing their girlfriends, more parents bribing their children.
I looked up and the mom was back with one of the two little boys. The kid was about five years old, dressed in blue pajamas, with huge brown eyes.
“He has something to tell you,” the mom said.
“What is it?”
The boy stared at me.
“He has something to give back to you.”
Slowly the boy pulled a pack of trading cards from behind him… around him? I didn’t see. This kid’s good.
“She can call the police on you! You could go to jail for that! Tell her you’re sorry!” the mom lectured. I frowned, playing along.
The little boy started running towards the door, terrified. He tripped, and fell on his face.