The Apocalyptic Pepper Thief.

“Good evening Mrs. Duvall,” said Adam, a tall, lanky man with blonde hair in his early twenties. Mrs. Duvall was a mannequin who had taken an unfortunate tumble out of an open department store window during the great quake. She was, more importantly, a great friend to Adam. “Mrs. Duvall you look ravishing as per usual” he said to the mannequin whose left arm was missing. He stopped for a second, squinted at the dummy and proclaimed, “I know what it is. You’ve had your hair done! How lovely. What’s that? Why yes, yes it has been dreadfully hot of late. Now Mrs. Duvall I’m afraid I must cut our conversation short. I’ve got to pick up a few things for the Missus. And she’ll kill me if I’m late!”He doffed his cap, a fez hat he had discovered while looking for survivors after the quake, and bid adieu to Mrs. Duvall who stood there in the same outfit she had always worn, a pair of fire singed blue overalls. 

He quickly crossed the street to the parking lot of the supermarket, a vast concrete expanse littered by broken cars and debris. On the far side he could see a black jeep that had been crushed by a massive fallen oak tree. As he made his way to the entrance, he spotted a familiar figure up ahead, his friend Harold who quickly disappeared behind the sliding doors. The Supermarket was one of the few structures in the city that had survived for the most save for the shattered windows and a large fault directly between the spice and bread aisles. He made his way inside and found Harold pillaging a shelf of soup cans. “Hello Harold, ah yes we’re in luck my friend it looks like there’s a sale on stew!” Harold ignored him and went back to work, work being furiously banging a can of what looked to be Dinty Moore Beef Stew on the shelf. “My good man there’s no need to get worked up over it, see?” Adam plucked a can off the shelf, opened the tab and placed it in front of his friend. Harold, who was one of several gorillas that had escaped from the zoo during the quake, gave him a rather incredulous look, snatched up the can, sniffed it, looked back at Adam and gleefully enjoyed the contents before tossing it aside. Harold was the most recognizable of all the gorillas, at least to Adam. For one thing he was easily the most amiable of the four he had encountered and he had a gray patch of hair on his chest that resembled the state of Texas. The big gorilla grunted at him and continued to rummage the “Oh no need to thank me, you are quite welcome! Now if you’ll excuse me I must be going. It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight and I’m already running terribly late.” Adam made a beeline to the spice aisle but in order to do so would require a literal leap of faith. The fault was just about four feet wide. Adam couldn’t help but stare into the vast abyss. Whenever he crossed it he made it a custom to drop a food item into the chasm as an offering of sorts. This time the sacrifice was a bag of candy corn. Adam stood there for a moment or two and convinced himself that the Earthquake Gods had deemed the offering satisfactory before leaping over the chasm. He made his way to the spics aisle and could see his objective just ahead of him, a lone pepper shaker. But just then came a woman bustling around the corner, and she snatched up the shaker and went back around the corner in a blink. Adam yelled out, “Excuse me, miss!” He ran after her. She was dressed in an overcoat and had shoulder-length brown hair. He hadn’t seen her before. He caught up to her, stood in front of her, and said, “Excuse me, miss.” She let out a sigh and said “Fine, best two out of three?” 

“Why yes, yes of course.” After the great quake, it had become customary practice to settle disputes over games of rock, paper, scissors. Adam closed his eyes, drew two deep breaths, and focused his mind for the ensuing combat. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” She drew paper and Adam a rock. “Drats!” he exclaimed. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” He drew a rock again beating her scissors. Here it was it all came down to this. One final bout to rightfully determine who should have the last pepper shaker. “Rock, paper, scissors shoot!” He drew scissors which were crushed by her rock. “Fine.” He said, utterly dejected. Then he suddenly exclaimed, “No! Don’t do it my goodness. Nooo!” and pointed behind the woman she turned instinctively and without hesitation, he snatched the pepper shaker from her hand and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. “Hey!” she yelled. “I’m sorry, you don’t understand I need this!” So he ran back he turned very briefly realizing that she was quick herself. He turned the corner and went out of the supermarket and down an alleyway. He made it home just a few moments later seeing the all too familiar sign “Mountain View Assisted Living.” There wasn't much assistance lately following the catastrophic quake but it had been one of the only structures left that offered suitable shelter. And so it had become his home.

He climbed the stairs to room 226, the elevator had given out of course, and opened to the door to find her waiting for him. “Yes, I know I'm late!” There was the “missus” as he affectionately referred to her as. He also called her Bertha too for you can never have too many names for a pet. She was a mastiff who had a bad temper when dinner wasn’t served on time. She barked vehemently voicing her displeasure. “Now stop it. Do you honestly believe I was going to serve you unseasoned beef bourguignon? Now, it'll be ready soon I assure you. And it’ll have been worth the wait!” As he was busily preparing dinner he heard, “I hope you made enough for three.” That familiar female voice, the one he had thought he had just escaped echoed out from behind the door. “Pepper thief!”