Yesterday, you threw a little kid out of the candy store you work in.
The pipsqueak waltzed in the door like he owned the place, shoved his way past two customers waiting to be rung up, and said he wanted “all the good stuff you keep in the candy safe,” whatever that means. Then he said he wanted it for free, “or else.”
You could barely hold back your laughter at the tiny human threatening you for confections. “What does ‘or else’ mean, kid?”
“Look, lady,” he told you, “It’s just…this is such a nice candy store you have here. It’d be a shame if anything happened to it.”
You’d heard about enough. You told the little shit to get lost.
“Okay,” he told you, “but I can’t be held responsible if anything goes wrong here.”
Now, two days later, he’s outside on his bicycle, staring you down through the storefront window. Noticing he has your attention, the kid shoots you a nod punctuated with a smug smile.
What is that little asshole up to? you wonder.
You shrug off the thought at return to your work ringing up customers. A few moments in, you’re startled by a sudden bang on the window. You wheel around to see a sucker-dart stuck to the glass. Tied to the dart is a small piece of paper. Leaning toward the window, small words written in crayon become clear on the note as it spins, dangling from the string tied to the dart.
“THis wus a warning” it reads.
You catch a glimpse of the sucker-dart bandit peering around the corner of the building across the street. He raises a neon green dart gun to his lips and appears to blow non-existent smoke from the muzzle. He points two fingers at his eyes, then at you, (I’m watching you) and disappears behind the building.
You stare blankly out the window. This is real life.