Elizabeth gazed out the store window as the cars passed by in late Sunday slowness. An ambulance went by, lights flashing and siren sounding, but it also went at a somewhat casual pace. The store shelves were orderly and coffee was still filtering through, into a fresh pot. With all her duties done and still hours of her shift left, she looked around the counter area for anything to organize. Spotting a stack of old magazines, she clicked the computer to the non-sold section and began typing in each title and quantity for each pile.
The door opened slowly and two men walked in disturbingly slow. The hairs went up on the back of her neck before she even had a chance to turn around to greet them inside. As her eyes met the first man's eyes, she knew this was to be no ordinary night at the store. He held the small, shiny object in front of his body, watching her reaction to it. "Stop," she said, but he wouldn't stop.
"I'm not kidding, stop, this is illegal and I want no part of it," she said loudly to the second man, but he appeared to be taking survelience of the store for other women to phone-film. "This is not allowed in this store, we have a sign," Elizabeth warned them again. As she took in a deep breath, and having no other choice at this point, she took out a small pen-shaped utensil and aimed it at the phone in the first man's hand. "Shit!" he screamed in an almost feminine voice as the phone went flying from his hand, the electrical charge sending sparks flying everywhere.
"I warned you," Elizabeth said flatly.
"You didn't have to ruin my phone!" the man yelled as he bent down to pick up his smouldering tiny machine.
"You didn't have to continue filming me when I said to stop," Elizabeth said, twice as flatly as she'd said she'd warned him. "I know what you use those for and I want no part of it," she added.
"Cunt," the second man said as he took out another film-phone and pointed it at her. She reached inside to grab her potent pen, but he quickly put his phone away and both men headed towards the door to leave.
Bill walked in as the two men brushed by him whispering directly at him "damn nigger," to which Bill replied "dang, haven't heard that in a good decade."
Elizabeth started to cry. "Bill, I'm so, so sorry. I apologize for them calling you that."
Bill leaned over the counter and took her chin in his hand. "Don't apologize for them, have pity on them. That kind of thing went out with gas operated cars. Society exhausted racism long ago, those boys just don't know how to keep up with the times and styles. Besides, I am sure they have no idea, but they hurt themselves by using that term such as they did when the word itself is nothing more than sounds, letters, and mouth opening and tongue swirls. They can let all that verbally out, but the hate of it stays within them, it can't reproduce itself, it eventually only destroys the harborer."
Elizabeth stood still and wondered what it must have been like growing up during the times that Bill had, when racism was more prevalent, when computers weren't even around as they were now. It must have been so hard to understand the mind aspect of things back then.
Posted by nft at October 14, 2004 08:15 PM