Frank's Gem

7/4. The Following Events Take Place Between 12pm and 1pm on the Fourth of July. Events Occur in Real Time.


Previously on 7/4

Wife: "When are you going to the supermarket? My parents are coming and they deserve a nice holiday for once, especially after you got drunk at last year's cookout and tried to wrestle my father. They'll be here in less than two hours and you haven't done a thing to start lunch. I want everything to be perfect when they get here"

Me: "You've had me working in the yard all morning. I haven't even had time for a cup of coffee or anything to eat"

Wife: "And you know why you haven't? You work so damn slow. Now here is the shopping list and don't forget a propane tank for the grill which we don't have now because you didn't get it last week when I asked you. And take your son with you; I need to clean the house. Now hurry up and if you're late you're dead."

The following events take place between 12pm and 1pm on the 4th of July. Events occur in real time.

1:00:00

1:00:01

1:00:02

1:00:03 I arrive at the grocery store with my son, place him in a cart, and I reassure myself that it's late enough in the day that I'll probably be the only one at the store. When I walk through the automatic doors, my mouth drops almost to the black ridged mat at my feet. I look toward the registers and see massive crowds angered and exhausted. It's like a scene from 19th century Ellis Island with people slowly being processed through the chaos into lines. It appears that in some aisles, families are being separated and taken to other lines. In the international aisle, customers bang their carts into each other and swear in seemingly every foreign language while they throw spices and strange pickled items at each other. Fist fights break out at the self-checkout lines as confused first time users hold everything up. The register numbers blink asking for help that doesn't come. The yelling is awful, "You call that 12 items or less!" I cover my son's ears. Already tired from a day's work in the yard, no food, no caffeine, with the in-laws coming over and now seeing this, I realize this could be the longest day of my life.

1:05:23 I finally fight my way through the crowd and right before our cart is rammed, I duck into the seasonal goods aisle. It's jammed to the rafters with beach accessories, sparklers and all things red white and blue from flags to wall hangings, stars and stripes candles, paper plates and napkins - everything made in China. I wonder what Thomas Jefferson would say if he saw the sorry state into which the celebration of the nation's birth has devolved. But then I remember I don't know a damn thing about Thomas Jefferson or any other president. I went to public school. But I definitely prefer the look of him on the new nickel.

1:11:43 I tear my son away from the toy section "No you do not need a generic stuffed blue bear. Mommy keeps track of this stuff. How many times have I told you to hold out for the big ticket items?" Anyway, I make my way to the meat and deli area. It's worse than the registers. The crowds climb on the glass display cases and cheer madly as the pull down the ticket dispenser like it's the statue of Saddam. I wonder if I should use the computer screen prompt to order or take my chances and try to wait it out at the counter. I decide to stay and look for an opening. With one eye on the line, I try to placate my impatient son by reading his Dr. Seuss book to him for the millionth time. One page in and low on calories and energy, my eyes grow heavy. I see the red, white and blue pinwheel in my son's hand spinning, and I become strangely entranced. I begin to hallucinate. I see the Cat in the Hat wearing a white smock and wielding his butcher's knife. He chops away wildly at a rack of ribs and smiles at me menacingly. Cat: So you'd like to eat some meat? Maybe buy some liver and pig's feet? It's neat to take a seat and heat some pig feet meat to eat.Me: I will not eat pig feet.Cat: Would you eat them as a treat? Would you eat them in the street? Eat them! Eat them! They're so sweet. Would you eat them as a treat in the street riding on a zipperzeet?And so on.My son shakes me back to reality and suddenly I see clearly. It's a conspiracy. The whole thing unfolds before me. They're after us and they don't want us to leave. How could I be so blind? If I want to get out with my son, my life and my groceries, I had better think fast. Who knows how high up it goes? Think, damnit, think. Looking around I see that the crowd hasn't moved. It's no good. We need to keep moving.

1:22:37 There are cameras everywhere in this store. They watch our every move. Trying to act nonchalant as I walk through the store, I grab frosting, a few heads of lettuce and garbage bags. We hide behind the Coinstar machine and I do my best to camouflage the both of us. I cut arm and head holes in two black garbage bags, cover our faces with the green frosting and use the rest of the frosting to stick the red lettuce leaves on our heads. I roll as I fast as I can to the florist shop. We ditch the carriage and hide amongst the plants and baby's breath while I try to formulate a plan. In other action - picture four squares on your screen - my wife stands at the screen door checking her watch, looking out and scowling, my in-laws drive on and the Cat in the Hat cackles as he feeds a miniature Uncle Sam through the deli slicer.

1:35:17 I tell my son we need to arm ourselves. "Son, it's time you became a man. If we're going to survive this, we need to get weapons. Listen to me carefully. If I go down or get hit, I want you to try to run for it. Leave me behind and save yourself." My boy says, "Dad, I don't know what you are talking about. No one's after us. Let's just get our food and go." I'm stunned. I was prepared for this conspiracy to involve the biggest names and highest offices in the grocery industry, but not my own son. I never thought it would be an inside job. "Either you're coming with me or not, boy, but I'm going". I belly crawl over to the propane tanks and grab one and, running over to the seasonal aisle, breathing heavy, I stuff my pockets full of sparklers. I look at my watch. I'm running out of time.

1:46:33 I've gathered all the food I need in a basket except for the meat. Suddenly I sense movement over my shoulder and I see employees closing in on me following the trail of frosting. "Sir, we have a few questions for you," they say. "I'll bet you do, scum. Tell your fat cat bosses in China that the American people aren't going to take it anymore!" I hold up my lighter, "Take one more step and I light the propane tank. I'm serious. Back off." Other customers gasp, my son cries, the employees freeze in their tracks and suddenly I possess clarity of thinking. For a brief moment I even feel an ambiguous empathy for my enemies, like when I see a fat kid riding a bike. I take all the sparklers out, light them and throw them at the employees. I tell my son to take the groceries as I take his other hand and we run toward the employee entrance to the butcher shop knocking over a pyramid of oranges along the way. "Hey you can't be in here". "You want some of this" I yell to the employee as I hold up the lighter to the tank again. "I'm leaving and I'm taking this tray of london broil with me." We run again this time through the emergency exit out into the sweltering sun and sweet freedom. It's over. I know now that nothing in this world is free, especially my freedom. Except of course for the items that I stole; they were free.

1:58:12 Triumphant and disheveled with pouring sweat drawing rivulets through the frosting on my face, my son and I carry everything up the front steps. My wife greets us with her arms folded and a furious look on her face. From behind her I see my in-laws emerge equally angry. They've come early and they look hungry. My day has only just begun.

1:59:58

159:59

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