Page 12 of Hurry Up And Wait
“I don’t know many people who carry around umbrellas anymore.”
“Some do.”
I thought about it, then shook my head. “I can’t recall seeing anyone carry around umbrellas. Maybe in New York City.”
“Whatever. I’m gonna bring it back. Just you watch and see.”
We pulled into the shopping center and he parked outside the grocery store. “What are we doing here?”
“I told you, getting an umbrella.”
“At the grocery store?”
“It’s the only place in town that has them.”
I couldn’t believe it. He was basing all his designs on a cheap umbrella from the grocery store. “Shouldn’t you at least buy one online?”
He snorted. “And waste twenty bucks on an umbrella that I’m going to rip to shreds? I don’t think so. Besides, I need some items for testing the accuracy and strength of my umbrella.”
“At the grocery store,” I repeated.
He got out of the truck with only a nod and headed inside. I unbuckled, sighing in frustration. I knew I was going to regret this. I caught up to him just as he was grabbing a cart and decided to bite. “So, what are we getting for testing?”
“I’m glad you asked. You can help with the testing.”
“Maybe Fox would be better at that. You know, since he loves knives so much.”
He snapped his fingers at me. “You’re right. Hey, do you think I could become an aichmomaniac?”
“Isn’t that something you’re born with?”
He actually looked disappointed when I suggested that. “Yeah, I guess.”
“So, what do we need?”
“Well, we’ll pretty much clean out the produce section of melons. We could use avocados, oranges…ooh, let’s get some apples.”
“Know many people with tiny, hard heads?”
He shook his head. “What? No, it’s just to test the strength of the knives.”
I already regretted coming with. “I’ll grab the melons. You find your umbrellas.”
Clearly, sarcasm was not something he was in tune with today. I pushed the cart away from him and went to the produce section. Glancing around, I noted several other people checking their melons carefully. When I started loading them into the cart, they all stopped and watched me.
“Are those all ripe?” an older man asked.
“No idea. I’m not eating them.”
He frowned, counting them in the cart. “What are you doing with so many of them?”
“Knife throwing contest.”
I wasn’t about to admit that I had a crazy friend developing an umbrella knife-throwing machine. We already got enough weird looks from people in town after Fox’s avocado protest. Not to mention the fact that he started a run on toilet paper. We were just one story shy of being booed out of town.
With the cart loaded up, I went in search of FNG, but when I saw him in an argument with the store manager over the umbrella selection, I decided to keep walking. I was just rounding the corner when I heard two women arguing as they loaded up their cart with candy. Like any normal person, I turned to head the other direction when something about them caught my eye.
I moved closer and then heard the name I remembered as a kid.