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May 2020
4:56 p.m./ Tuesday Afternoon at the super pet supply shoppe.
In the city its already summertime, the scorching heat stays just  beyond the sliding doors, and inside the air is cool. Not crowded by any means, but this is considered busy for pandemic times. Only some wear masks and latex, what’s truly worn are only long faces of oh my lord—where’s the love?

    A single check out cashier, a mid thirties brunette, and coworker assistant manager slash younger awkward late twenties Wanna be friend. The two women volley their conversation, keeping alert at work yet having witty banter, and under face mask subdued laughter. It’s their picture of professional. (No schisms).

There’s a short line of three customers at the only counter and cashier, a young Asian man who stays silent except his dark brows and wide almond eyes behave way too loud and anxious. He quickly exits soon enough, with dog treats and receipt—gone, left behind no remark or clue of the presence of himself. who what now? Xexei. It was nothing who?

After him on the blue spot that’s six feet apart exactly, a kind golden girl—black grandma, carrying herself assuredly and queenlike proud and strong. She has had a lifetime to know better how not to show expressions out in a world full of fear and angry hate and judgemental folks concealing their guns. Only when she speaks will others know the emotional landscape on her color, purple dark like a bruise, they are all earth Tone and pale flesh, they all knew hate somehow, somewhere. But this simple moment outside homes of box, apartment  cage, incarcerated times (more or less an animal) here, there’s no danger. Not eminent or otherwise, not from what she could tell. She relaxes shoulders a tiny bit, sighs at the clarity of time’s aging wisdom. Congenial, since there was no recourse or fight ergo no recoil of folks from keeping it real with each other. Yeah, she nods to herself, there no danger ‘round here, though with covid 19, most stress biting the fear.

A dark skinned couple enter, a bull size of a man leading the way for her to follow. He had that look about him —a Mad dog glaring at those he sees, reading their faces, smelling the air, ready to stomp on anyone that would make a racist comment with their ****** que’s. He seemed as if he were looking for an enemy the way his furrow swept the room. His ***** follows behind, and she’s embarrassing enough, he tells himself, she’s a giant babae’s kid; ***** broccoli Brillo hair, unruly growth with twigs and leaves and twine. she is taller than him, bringing herself more attention, but her blank face and fat lips pursed, her eyes rolling— not with attitude but lack of aptitude most women her age possess. He seems to be thinking let’s see which one these ******* gonna say somethin’. At least that’s what his face said...

    “So yeah, like I was saying,” says the younger assistant manager with her pigtails trying too hard, while she folds boxes and wipes baskets and disinfects shopping carts. “Since we work with pets, I think we begin to treat our men like so…”

As a young man in a white tank checks out and exits the store, the cashier remarks under her breath, completely distracted, it was louder than under, the breath that everyone heard. Her coworker catches the last view before the doors slide closed, she nods, her pigtails still trying too **** hard.

    “I don’t mind THAT kind of stray coming home with me,” brunette cashier says, then  both women chuckle, one howling like a wolf,”ah wooo!”
    “But he’s not ***** trained” someone says.
    “He’s old enough honey, he’ll know what he’s doing and getting.” Checker gal continued with a hint of doubt.
    “I would rather have a well trained lap dog who’s house broken.” the older lady in line says then,”if you going to have to, yknow get yourself a dawg, then it better be well trained by none other than you yourself sister child” she begins to smile wildly and giggles at the thoughts she thought.
    “You can take the stray home for a night or two,sure. But mmm child, if it’s longer, they literally will stay without havin’ given your verbal command,” the women are laughing together now, and pause their work since she was the only customer at the check out anyhow. “It gets ugly tho’— when you try to oust a pit bull out cha house. No Siree I’d rather have my baby boo who’ve I trained to come and lay his face on my lap—“ more gaffaws at this. “And who fetches what ever it is i need. And most times it’s just sit and give mamma kisses, hehehe…”

“Amen to that sister!” The blonde girl folding boxes suddenly grabbed her own mouth slapping herself with the reaction she got, their audible inhaled breath and wide eyed glances shot in her direction. *** she mouthed was that racist?  “I’m so sorry. Oh my god oh my god oh my god … I swear I’m not racist, ma’am. I mean I know I’m not cuz I want a black man for a boyfriend, I’ve always wanted one…get married to one—” her last remark set the strong older lady into a fit of laughter, which infected those around them.

Embarrassment turned into acceptance, feeling accepted, that human connection covid19 couldn’t **** or take from us.

After some time, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes, and work had carried on in the interim, the hilarity lessened as the older lady paid with her debit card. Her final remark as she gathered her shopping bags,”becareful nowadays with the brothers, yknow if you bumpin uglies, cuz most now are just ruthless dawgs. Tearing your life and home apart. **** ruthless dawgs.”

‘I wonder who’s at fault’, they all coincidentally thought.

* * *
Butch Decatoria
Written by
Butch Decatoria  47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
(47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA)   
58
   Bogdan Dragos
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