Bill smiled largely and announced, “Welcome to the Eternity Grocery. Hope you found everything you were looking for.”
He scanned his only customer’s cans of soup, ice tea, and several cans, of soft cat food, while under her breath, her dark thick lips muttered “I didn’t find some heat for the dead beat with me.”
He jerked his 6 foot tall frame back and proclaimed, “Oh, my badness! $6.66. Now that’s an evil number. Do you want to throw some gum or candy on your order, Darling?”
“I’m not your darling, thank you,” she said smartly.
“I do apologize. I believed I recognized you,” Bill responded without acknowledging her attitude. He then asked, “You don’t care about the Number of the Beast?”
“I don’t believe that crap,” she grumbled.
“Highway to Hell, & Hells Bells, from AC/DC, Running with the Devil by Van Halen, the Stones made a Symphony for the Devil. The Dead were a Friend of the Devil and Metallica Danced with the Devil. Oh hell, the Beatles even had a Woman With A Devil in Her Heart. Meanwhile there is only a Stairway to Heaven. Obviously, you’re in the minority.”
She had a cold stare that met Bills’ eyes, and said, “As an African-American you get reminded constantly that your in the minority. Besides those were, all white folks, huh?”
“Heavens no! Heavens no, Bruno Mars was Locked Out of Heaven, and then there’s Robert Johnson and Snoop Dogg singing about making deals with the devil. Say what you want about police in the U.S., Satan is by no means a racist.” Bill stated with a confident, knowing grin. “It’s funny I’ve seen folks toss a pack of gum or a candy bar on this conveyor belt just to get their total off that number.”
Let’s guess rich, stupid, white people, huh?
Nope. Wealthy, prideful suckers have no need for God. They never do. It’s the poor folks, who always do, especially black customers. Funny and to think, I once heard a guy announce how the meek shall inherit the earth……”
“Hey! You put my cat food with my soup!,” she muttered angrily. “I keep my human commodities away from animal nourishments” she stated, as if she were a nun who stumbled into a pornographic Comic-Con.
“Oh I’m so sorry got your receipt right here,” Bill answered.
“You’re not going to fix it?”
Bill flipped around and with a huge grin said, “Tamrin! You are one huge idiot. I know you don’t care about cans of Fancy Feast being mixed with Campbell’s Soup. You just like being a bitch, and I don’t love money.”
“How do you know you my….”
“Tamrin, you cannot imagine everything thing I know,” Bill leaned over the grocery stores’ conveyor belt and stared her straight in the eyes. “You want your husband to have a long, slow, painful death, but you cannot do it yourself because all your friends, enemies, acquaintances, co-workers, children, in-laws, and family members know you hate him. He in fact hates you too. Funny thing is you both love money so much you’re not willing to make any cutbacks to divorce each other.”
“Dear god,” she said slowly.
“Ha, ha, yeah, not even close,” he chuckled. “Anyway, you have dreams of leaving the city council behind moving straight to Washington, and becoming the first female president, who just happens to be the first female African-American president.”
“Who are you?
“Oh please you either already know or else you will. Regardless, you have to figure that out yourself. However, the one thing I can tell you is that if you deal with me, the more you get, the more you will give.” Bill grinned and said, “Your bill is still $6.66.”
“Um actually no,” she said slowly. “Let me grab a bottle of wine.”
“By all means, Darling.”