This story here is the fastest that I've ever written. I wrote it in about 45 minutes; I couldn't stop. When I picked up the pen, it was like magic. I felt as if there was something driving me to write this story. I had this concept in my mind for about a month or so, but last night was the first time that I took the time to write it down.
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<center> The Customer is always right </center>
Everytime I see a convenience store, I remember the days when I was a teenager and worked in one. "Daddy, daddy, can you please tell us about the Lopez story?" my two kids energeticly scream as I stare at the Old's Mechanical shop that's across the street from us. I look down to my eldest son Eric, age 8, and I pat the top of his head.
"Maybe some other time, son," I say while smiling down at him in a warm, fatherly manner.
"But, you promised," he cries out.
"Now, why do you want to know about the Lopez story so much? eh? eh? eh?" I ask while playfully tickling and wrestling him. He gives a gleeful and childish giggle, and then says, "Ohh, Dad, stop it. I just want to know, because, I just want to know, ok? All the kids at school whisper about it."
"Well, is that so?" I say while arching my right eyebrow. I turn my head towards the back seat of our old, beat-up Chevy, and then look into my youngest son's, age 5, eyes. "Do you also want to know about the Lopez story, Danny?" I ask him in a quiet, unassuming tone. He innocently nods his head yes while sucking on his thumb. "Well, alright. Since you guys insist, I guess there's nothing I can do but tell you the whole story."
"Well, it's like this, kids: When I was a sophmore in high school, I faintly knew some of the Lopez children. They were a ragged bunch of kids, alright. Everyone used to tease them because their parents couldn't enlist them in any of the schools. Their parents couldn't enlist them in any schools because they couldn't afford to buy all 8 of them new clothes and school supplies. The younger Lopez kids used to go to the playgrounds in hope of making some friends, but all the other children's parents would not allow their kids near any of the Lopez's. I felt bad for them, but there was nothing that I could have done for them, then.
"Back then, I used to work part time at Mr. Ripley's convenience store. Mr. Lopez and his wife frequently came to the store, but they'd almost always leave with nothing. After some time, they began comming into the store everyday. Now, Mr. Ripley, he starts getting suspicious, and so he asks me and several others to keep a steady surveillance on Mr. and Mrs. Lopez.
After a week of heavy surveillance, we don't see them buy nor steal a single thing; yet, they kept comming back day after day. Finally, Mr. Ripley gets frustrated, and up and asks them what in the hell they're doing. They tell him that they're just looking around, and that they're normal human beings like everyone else, and that they shouldn't be looked down upon because they don't have as much money as other people. Now, Mr. Ripley was a real funny man back then, so, get this, he replies to them by telling them to eat horse shit and die. He tells them to never come back to his store until they have enough money to buy something .
"Well, two weeks went by, and we didn't see so much as a shadow of the Lopez parents, and I could sense a drastic change in Mr. Ripley. The whole time that Mr. and Mrs. Lopez were comming into the store, something had gotten into him. You could see it in his eyes; the old man wasn't going to last long with the amount of worrying that he was doing. It was always, 'My store this,' and, 'my store that,' and, 'these damned Mexicans are trying to run me down the gutter.' Well, on that second Friday that marked two weeks of no sight of Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, the man was as happy as could be. Heck, he even proposed markdowns on several children's items. The next day, however, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez were back.
"The look on the old man's face was priceless. You would have thought that he got punched in the stomach by a gorilla, the way his eyes bulged out of their sockets. The guy was a mess. The Lopez's carefully showed him fresh 100 dollar bills, and all he could do was whipe at his mouth with his handkercheif. For one hour, the Lopez's purchased a cartful of items, left the store, and then came back and purchased another cartful of items. They did this at least 4 times, and each time, the lines of perspiration that grew on Mr. Ripley's face became that much thicker. Finally, after they left, he went off on a rampage. 'These God-damn spicks aren't going to think that they can show me up,' he yelled. 'I own this damn store, and I'll be damned if they can berage in here whenever they feel like it.' That day was the worst I had ever seen the old man; the next day, he was dead.
"The police report stated that his head was completely obliterated by several blunt objects, all of them purchased at the store. His limbs were severed by sharp knives, and gardening tools, all purchased at the store. And the fluid in his eyes was saturated with bleach, several insecticides, and other hallogenic house-hold items, all purchased at the store. In total, the police found 32 items that belonged to the store in Mr. Ripley's house. Those were the main details that were given in the public report, but there are rumors that the murder was much worse. There are even people that, to this day, swear that several parts of his anatomy, one in particular, were never found.
"The Lopez's have never been seen since the murders; it's almost as if they vanished in thin air. As far as how they got a hold of the reported 150 dollars that they used to shop, it's been rumored that somehow the town witch had something to do with that. There's been some that claim that they saw Mrs. Lopez meeting the witch through the back door of her house a few days before they vanished. Well, that's the story, kids." I look to the right of me, and Eric's jaw is completely open. Danny's in the back seat crying, and I say, "Shh, shh, now, now, there. Let's get going into the store before it gets late." The 150 dollars that I plan on using at the store has been sitting on the dash this whole time. I wonder if Eric saw it.
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i agree with czar, id buy a novel of yours if you wrote one...
