The Aisle

By Otis

"Pardon me sir" I said as I squeezed past the young store clerk who was stocking the shelves in the narrow aisle. The store clerk made a noise to acknowledge my request but the sounds did not make words. As I made my way towards the rice, a woman who was incredibly aged turned her cart down the narrow aisle toward me. I reached the rice and grabbed a small bag of the white. The old woman drew closer. I looked back at the young store clerk who was still stocking the shelves. I was trapped. "Who designed this store?" I thought to myself. I could return the way I came but would that require another "Pardon me sir." Oh shit! That's no sir at all! Ah crap, now I'm going to have to try and squeeze past this old woman. I couldn't possibly face another encounter with that young lady stocking the shelves (not after what I just did.) As she made her slow approach, the old woman eyed the rice that I was carrying then looked to my eyes. I hesitated then made my move to get around her. "Excuse me Ma'am." She smiled as side stepped between the sparsely stocked shelves and the cart behind which was she, the old woman. Now beyond the embarrassment, I declared to myself that I should have climbed over the row of shelves into the next aisle. Behind my grey sport coat, tucked into my trousers at the small of my back, was a Model 1911 45 Auto pistol. Had she made a move for the rice, I would have dropped that old bag.

Mystalker.com

9 out of 10 women have had a stalker...



Just another service Finger Frame Productions has to offer.