Claude tallied up the man's order on the register. $6.49 for a package of AA batteries. $5.99 for Head 'n' Shoulders shampoo. $0.85 for a package of Juicy Fruit gum -- 8 sticks; 17 sticks for $1.20 but this man didn't get it, even though Claude would’ve recommended the savings, per-stick-wise. And $899.00 for a Smith-and-Wesson .33 revolver. He took a good look at the man, just like the state asked him to do, and asked him for ID, please. It's 2018, after all. One more year to go and we'll be rid of Obama. Then maybe we'll get another Texas Republican in there and be done with all these ID checks.
The 6-foot-tall guy with the big hook nose, pointy hazel eyes, Buster Brown hair, thick dark stubble, and a crescent-shaped scar on his right cheek gave him the ID. The Florida driver's license said John Smith, born 1973, resident of Hialeah. What's the forty-five year old man doing this far from home, Claude wondered? It's Waco, Texas. Enough said, anyway. The ID checks out with the computer, too -- no convicted felons matching the description or the ID. So he rang up the tab and gave the guy his batteries, shampoo, gum, and a gun. He saw John Smith leave.
Claude turned back to the lottery machine, printing out tickets for the bouffant-hairdoed lady after Mr. Smith. Ten tickets for the Texas Lotto. Dang, the machine stuck on ticket #8. The woman screamed.
Claude scowled before turning around. "Ain't nothing but a jam, lady, settle down!"
He felt the tip of the gun at his back. "Don't move," the man behind the gun told him, "or you're roadkill." Claude’s breathing stopped and Satan clutched his stomach.
"You wanna tell me about sleeping with my wife, Helen? And then maybe you and I will go out back here." Claude didn't want to go out back. There were broken glass, sticky tar, and 3-foot tall weeds back there.
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