I HAD DOG FOR breakfast and the day went down from there.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t mean to have dog. I went to a Korean place with a friend. We only had half an hour, because that was all the time she was allotted for lunch. Her lunch, my breakfast. I took one look at a plate going past us toward an old Korean couple and I told the waiter,<\/p>\n
\u201cOne of those.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smirked and my friend listened to me bitch about the declining state of America vis \u00e0 vis general incompetence.<\/p>\n
\u201cStore clerks are rude and they can\u2019t do anything for you. And where are they when you need to pay for your stuff and go? And then nobody can drive in the snow.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re all from California. They\u2019re nuts anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCalifornication.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look like a California girl.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you were my friend.\u201d<\/p>\n
And we sat and ate in silent commiseration at the pass to which we had been brought by Californians.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, this is good stuff,\u201d I said when it occurred to me that I was actually enjoying my meal. \u201cWonder what it is?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was almost an afterthought when I asked the waiter what I\u2019d had. He rattled off some long Korean name and I said, \u201cYes, but what is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
I was sick all afternoon, images running through my mind of my poor Scruffy, his big body stuffed and lying prone on a platter, complete with an apple in his mouth. I called my mother to ask after my beloved German shepherd, whom I could not keep where I lived, but no one was home.<\/p>\n
Snow fell throughout the day and I decided it would be ever so much nicer to stay home and putter than go to school. But the vacuum broke, and I ran out of laundry detergent and toilet paper. Ricki Lake\u2019s guests were women whose fathers had slept with their boyfriends and Fox had discontinued Animaniacs<\/em>. Then after a while, it was time to go to work.<\/p>\n Graveyard had its advantages and disadvantages. Besides the obvious fact that the hours\u2014ten p.m. to six a.m.\u2014sucked, it wasn\u2019t too bad. I worked alone, I could do homework, I wasn\u2019t on my feet for eight hours. And gas stations were very interesting places to meet people\u2014all sorts of people.<\/p>\n So it was that I was right in the middle of cleaning the coffee pot around three a.m. when someone knocked on the door. I scurried back to the register, behind the bulletproof glass (\u201cNo,\u201d said my manager, \u201cbullet resistant<\/em> glass\u201d) secured by two deadbolt locks, and flipped the switch to unlock the station\u2019s outside doors.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning,\u201d I said, even though it wasn\u2019t, what with register screw-ups and gas pump malfunctions, not to mention the deplorable state in which the day crews had left the store for the night crew\u2014me. \u201cHow\u2019s it lookin\u2019 outside?\u201d Of course, I could see that it was a blizzard and all was whirling white. But it was something to say to folks, some of whom had precious few people to talk to and their best conversations were with the night gas station attendant.<\/p>\n The young black man in a trenchcoat looked around nervously, over his shoulder outside, then at me, before he walked around the store to check out the wondrous array of potato chips. Around the back end shelves, laden with oil and other petroleum products, up the other aisle bedecked with various danishes, crackers, and cookies. He peered out the window at the side of the lot he\u2019d not already surveyed. He was clean cut, small, and wore expensive Italian loafers that dripped water all over my floor.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I help you find something?\u201d I finally asked, wondering if he was drunk. Didn\u2019t act like it, though. He had a very careful gait, as if he were afraid of slipping on the wet tiles, but it did not falter or wobble.<\/p>\n His gaze skittered to mine and I thought I detected a hint of fear. But dark eyes are hard to read. He approached the counter.<\/p>\n Suddenly an old .38 Special appeared across the bulletproof glass and its menacing eye trembled in the air. \u201cGive me all your money,\u201d he said in a cultured voice.<\/p>\n That tore it. First the dog, then the Californians, then no toilet paper. Now this.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, for cryin\u2019 out loud!\u201d I burst out, angry, vaguely wondering if calling the police would be worth the trouble. \u201cWould you please get a life? Buy one, rent one, I don\u2019t care.\u201d I leaned over my portion of the counter and knocked on the glass. \u201cCheck that out, Mr. Robber Person. Bullet proof. The snack crackers are behind you. Knock yourself out. Here\u2014\u201d I said, bending for a plastic bag. I opened it for him as if he were a valued customer and shoved it in the shallow tray underneath the glass frame. \u201cHere\u2019s a bag. Be my guest.\u201d<\/p>\n The muzzle of the gun wavered more and I could see his body shaking as badly as his hand. He gulped. \u201cI\u2014I sai\u2014said, \u2018Give me all your money.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, please,\u201d I drawled, rolling my eyes, preparing to hit the floor in the event that he fired. How dependable was this lauded glass? \u201cYou can\u2019t possibly believe that I\u2019m going to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2014I ma-mean it. I\u2019ll shoot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, yeah, yeah.\u201d I opened the register drawer and took out a quarter. It clattered in the metal tray where I threw it. \u201cCall someone who cares.\u201d<\/p>\n He took a deep breath and raised the gun higher, clutching it with two hands that trembled. I was almost to the floor when he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I peeked up over the counter at him.<\/p>\n His middle-class brow wrinkled in confusion as he studied the gun; the ludicrousness of it hit me and I rose.<\/p>\n \u201cJeez Louise,\u201d I snapped as I locked the outside doors out of habit and opened the glass door that separated us. \u201cCan\u2019t anybody do anything right?\u201d I stormed over to him and yanked the gun out of his hands. \u201cGimme that thing. Look at this,\u201d I said as I pointed at the trigger. \u201cYou\u2019ve got the safety on. How do you expect to shoot anybody with the safety on?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2014what\u2019s a safety?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt keeps you from pulling the trigger when it\u2019s on. And look at this gun. It\u2019s a mess. All that rust. You gotta take care of these things.\u201d I grabbed his left hand and slapped the gun back in it. The flash of gold caught my eye.<\/p>\n He started when my hand smacked the counter. I put my fist on my hip, affronted on behalf of the woman who wore the mate to his band. \u201cWhat the hell are you doing out at this time of night in a blizzard when you got a wife at home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh, well, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou got kids?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh, well, yeah\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you\u2019re here trying to rob me with a gun that won\u2019t work through bulletproof glass. You\u2019re not as smart as you look. C\u2019mere,\u201d I said as I grabbed his arm and dragged him behind the glass and pointed to the telephone. \u201cYou call your wife right now and tell her you\u2019re on your way home. She\u2019s probably worried sick about you.\u201d<\/p>\n And I stood over him with my arms crossed over my chest as he dialed, then spoke softly and with consideration.<\/p>\n \u201cShawna? Honey? \u2026 Yeah, I\u2019m all right, sweetie \u2026 \u201d He grimaced at whatever the strident female voice on the other end shouted at him. \u201cUh, well, I was at the boat.\u201d<\/p>\n That was when I snorted and rolled my eyes. Men. Apparently his wife did the same thing.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2014I know, honey \u2026 Calm down, now, Shawna \u2026 No, I\u2014\u201d He glanced over his shoulder at me. \u201c\u2014I was going to replace what I lost on the way home, but I haven\u2019t been entirely successful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIncompetence,\u201d I sighed. \u201cThe rotting foundation of America.\u201d<\/p>\n He showed a flash of annoyance at that, but continued to try to calm his wife. Finally he convinced her of his sincerity and hung up the phone. He fidgeted and looked everywhere but at me.<\/p>\n \u201cWell?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWell what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou going home now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou aren\u2019t going to call the cops?\u201d<\/p>\n I heaved a great, longsuffering sigh. \u201cDoes it look like it? Go away. Take your incompetent robber butt home and go to work in the morning like you\u2019re supposed to. What are you, middle management?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh, yeah.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh hunh. Thought so. You probably don\u2019t drink or smoke, either, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2014I\u2019ve never done this sort of thing before.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d I gasped as I herded him out of the office into the store, locking the door after him. \u201cI\u2019d have never guessed. Look, kid\u2014\u201d But he was older than me, if only a little. \u201c\u2014you look like a decent guy. Go home, take your lumps like a man, don\u2019t go to the riverboat and blow your paycheck again, and for heaven\u2019s sake\u2014learn to use a gun! You\u2019re gonna hurt yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n The rest of the night was quiet and I got the store squeaky clean. The carrier for the Star came, the doughnut man dropped off our order, and then the distributor for USA Today<\/em> left another stack of newspapers. Sherman, who drove a red pickup truck, came in to get his daily pint of Belfonte chocolate milk and two packs of Marlboro reds in a box, please.<\/p>\n I went home, slept, then called my mother. \u201cHow\u2019s Scruffy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow was your night at work, dear? Anything unusual happen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, it was okay. How\u2019s Scruffy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know, the nicest people moved in next door last week. Did I tell you that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. How\u2019s Scruffy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re very neat, clean people. They run a restaurant. They\u2019re trying very hard to fit into the culture.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom! How\u2019s Scruffy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re Korean, you know. Did I tell you that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMother!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cScruffy? Ah, well, he\u2019s, ah, around.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMother \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I don\u2019t know!\u201d she burst out. \u201cI haven\u2019t seen him for a couple of days. But don\u2019t worry. He\u2019ll turn up.\u201d<\/p>\n ★<\/p>\n I HAD DOG FOR breakfast and the day went down from there. I didn\u2019t mean to have dog. I went to a Korean place with a friend. We only had half an hour, because that was all the time she was allotted for lunch. Her lunch, my breakfast. I took one look at a plate […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":6087,"menu_order":96,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1375","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1375"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1375"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1375\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":25030,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1375\/revisions\/25030"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6087"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1375"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n20260330<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"