August 2011

[Sweder]

Turn on your speakers and click 'play', then read on ...



Ye Olde Waitrose Store on the outskirts of Town.

Here to pick up a few things. A wild wind whips through the rain-slick streets. I saunter in, eyeing the fruit and veg.
One or two strangers cruising the aisles, looking lost. Some regulars too, mostly hovering around the wine section. Drunkards.
I fill my basket with victuals, essential supplies before my journey home.

A shiver runs down my spine.
I glance about but see no obvious danger.
I make my way towards the front of the store, reach the checkout, the empty belt still and silent as hills at night.
The lone cashier flashes me a smile. I nod, start to load my purchases on the belt.

‘You gonna need any bags today?’

She chews gum slowly, blond locks scraped back into a tight bun. She tilts her head, waiting for my answer.

‘Maybe ... one or two.’

I stroll past the till, eyes locked as she swipes my dry goods across the code reader. I slide the merchandise into the bags.
Time slows.

‘That’ll be forty-four twenty’

I reach into my back pocket, shoulders tense.
I’m prepared, know this feeling all too well.

It’s a show-down.

I take my visa card out of my beer-stained wallet, slide a finger across the chip as I ease it into the reader.
The girl looks up. She squints, pretty face folding into a challenge. My eyes turn to burning slits. We both know now.
Time slows.

‘You want ... cash back?’

I shake my head. A bead of sweat betrays me, slides down my cheek, across my stubbly chin.
The overhead lights burn into my face as I punch in my PIN code, slowly, deliberately . . .
I stare at the LED screen.

[Please wait ...]

She’s watching me, hand on her till roll. Her index finger twitches and my muscles react, arm reaching an inch or two towards the plastic card. I stop.
A smile flickers at the corner of her mouth. She’s confident. She’s been here a hundred times . . .

[Please wait ...]

Sweat beads on my brow, feet planted shoulder-wide, waist pressed up against the checkout.
I’m ready, a coiled spring.

[Please wa – BA-BLINK!]

I strike like a rattlesnake, lightening fast!
Index finger and thumb close on the sharp plastic card edge. I tense to pull –

‘Please take your card ...’

Noooooo .....



I sink to my knees, anguish writ large across my furrowing brow, incredulity pooling in my wide, staring eyes, card held aloft as both hands reach for the sky.
I had her this time, I was so sure ...

‘You’re fast Cowboy ... but not fast enough. Have a nice day.’