Short on Time

During the day, Eatum’s is a local supermarket and pharmacy.

In the late hours, Eatum’s is a lighthouse, a dreamlike getaway for woe begotten souls, an entity embedded within a town that feels perpetually stuck in another era – Red Ridge.

For Amity Figg, the acne-plagued teen who works night shifts, it’s a chance for her to plan the romance novel she'll never get around to writing and dream of a better future – a life separate from Red Ridge.

For baby boomer insomniacs like Roger Morris, it’s a place he runs to once a week to restock. He’d run down, then haul his groceries back to his home twenty-five minutes down Grant Drive, back to his isolated existence within his flat.

For the aged war vet Ziggy Nusbaum, Eatum's is home. Ziggy is often suspected to be a murderer by the town’s youths, and to be honest, they aren’t too far off. Ziggy still has dreams of his past. He doesn’t think the screaming will stop before he dies. Aside from the garbage bins decorating the backside of Eatum’s, he has no real home.

“Ami?” Roger says one night. He’d just gotten into the place, and from the looks of the weather, a real nasty blizzard would be starting soon. On his way in, he’d gotten a thin layering of frost to coat his skin. He fears that if Amity takes any longer getting his cut of meat, he’d have to spend the night in Eatum’s. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but then again, neither was running back home in freezing temperatures wearing little else aside from standard running attire.

Roger calls her name again, and like before, nothing.

“I’m coming to you,” he says, vaulting the glass deli display and opening the door to the walk-in freezer. Peering in, he gets nothing. No Amity, just rows upon rows of these gigantic slabs of frozen meat. He calls to her one last time to be thorough, but again, nothing.

Roger returns to the main area.

“I guess she must’ve clocked out early,” he says. “I can get some microwave wings instead. I can afford to be a little naughty.”

Roger, resigning himself to what’ll almost definitely be a night stuck in Eatum’s, meanders around the store before eventually settling on the frozen food section. Smack dab in the middle of the aisle, a baby rests on the floor, playing with a squeaky toy hammer, pounding it against the floor. Roger almost can’t believe it. A baby is left alone, and it wasn’t screaming its damn head off? Impossible. He’d been on one too many unpleasant airline flights to know this.

“Hey, little fella,” Roger says, approaching cautiously. “You Ami’s nephew or something?”

The baby looks up at him but doesn’t reply. Roger notices that on the baby’s onesie is the name – Huggie.

“Well, Huggie, looks like you’ve been abandoned,” Roger says as he lifts the baby up, “but until we get this sorted out… let’s get some hot dogs. How does that sound?”

Huggie looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Heheh! Don’t worry, little guy. Take a nap. I’ll get you up when they’re ready.” Roger grins. “It’s not like we’re going to run out of food.”

But Huggie never did take his nap, and when Roger finds the hot dog display rotisserie cooker, it’s dormant.

“Ah, no! Huggie, look!” Huggie’s eyes slowly open. “I guess the power’s out, dangit!”

Huggie’s head bobs a little.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll figure something out that’s better… Hold on, let me think.”

Roger sits down, Huggie still in his lap. The store is always so quiet, but without even Amity there, Roger can’t help but feel a sense of caution.

“Man, Huggie, it’s a little creepy in here, ain’t it?” Huggie clicks his tongue. ““Aw, you made a noise! You’re a little cutie, aren’t you?”

Again, Huggie bobs his head.

“Y’know, Hugs, I used to be a big news anchor on a local station. I was number four in the county. But then I had a nervous breakdown, my kid fell on a rock while playing at school and died, and my wife left me shortly after.”

Huggie spits up a little.

“Don’t be that way. I’m fine now… Okay, no I’m not, but I’ve learned to settle with simplicity. That’s an important lesson, Hugs: Don’t be afraid to just enjoy life. Take things slow. Not everything needs to be great.”

Huggie throws up a little. Roger directs it at the floor.

“Woah! That must’ve freed up some room. Sorry I got to rambling. Now, let’s go get some bananas. You like bananas, Huggie?”

But before they could get their yellow oblongs, a skeleton comes from around the corner of an aisle, cackling and waving its arms in the air.

It screams, “I’ve got a present for you two! Kihihihihi! Hihihihihi!”

“Cover your ears, Huggie!”

Huggie uses his little hands to do just that, tightly scrunching up his face in anticipation. As their skeletal foe nears, Roger pulls out his handgun. He lifts the 25-oz. piece, and like the master of death he is, it rests in the air naturally aimed at his opponent. Roger moves without fear, without hesitation. There isn’t a hint of mercy in his next words.

“Rot in hell, you calcium-fueled bastard.”

Two shots, one on the pelvis, another on the skull. The skeleton doesn’t stand a chance. It crumbles into pieces right in front of Roger. He stuffs his glock back into his pants and lets out a long whistle in relief.

“You can relax now, Huggie. The bad guy’s gone… Wait, what’s this?”

Roger notices two things, both tightly clasped in the skeleton’s hands.

“Oh, no! Huggie, look!” Huggie blows a raspberry. “He was holding beef jerky and a copy of Con Air for VHS! He just wanted to hang out with us. Shoot, man. I guess he wasn’t a bad guy after all. Eh, Hugs?”

Huggie bobs his head. Roger picks up the jerky and VHS tape.

“Yeah, we should probably hide the bones. Someone might trip on them. You think pretty quick, don’t you, my little accomplice.”

Huggie nibbles on the plastic jerky wrapping.

“I’m happy we met.”

For the rest of the night, Roger and Huggie enjoyed each other’s company, eating jerky and watching Con Air in the employee’s only room.

For Mr. Jingo, Eatum’s signifies the fear of a broken promise. He’d create something once a week, and he feared that if he ever stopped, he would never regain that same work ethic. In fear of creating an ending forced, maudlin, or hackneyed, he writes a comedy so bloody nonsensical and fundamentally stupid that nobody in their right mind would find meaning in it. It sucks. The end. Thanks for reading.