by Dwayne Phillips
December 30, 2008 - 2008-052
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Paul hobbled into the Walgreens. He drug his right foot and planted it next to the bottom of his cane. He leaned on the cane and stepped with his left leg. Repeat every movement - drag the right foot, lean on the cane, step with the left leg. It was slow, but it worked. The automatic doors slide to the side and allow Paul to shuffle inside.
The bright lights of the Walgreens contrasted with the darkness outside. It is almost 10 PM, and the Walgreens would close in a few minutes. Paul had gone to bed at 9PM, but couldn't sleep. His stomach churned and his head ached. Maybe Walgreens had something for those ailments. Maybe Walgreens had some people who would say a few words to an old man who rarely heard another person's voice.
A muffled voice came from somewhere. Paul turned and saw a young man in a Walgreens red vest walking away. "So, don't speak to me," said Paul to the young man's back as he turned behind an aisle of school supplies or greeting cards. "Always the same, people too busy to say hello or to bother to sell you something."
Paul stopped his shuffling to look at the aisle markers. The medicines were in the back of the store. "This is a pharmacy," said Paul. "Pharmacies are supposed to sell medicine. Why put them in the back? Why not put them in the front where people can buy them? Just don't understand these people."
Paul started his slow walk towards the back of the store. He rolled his eyes at each slow step. "Medicine in the back," he thought with each dragging of his right foot. He finally reached the medicine aisle and started looking for antacids.
The store went dark. A few of the florescent lights flickered from emergency batteries.
Paul heard a shout from another part of the store. The shouting continued and grew closer. "Anyone else in here?" was the shout as the young man in the Walgreens vest walked past the end of the medicine aisle.
"Hey!" shouted Paul at the passing young man. "Hey, you."
After a moment, the young man looked around the end of the aisle at Paul. "You okay?" he asked. "Anyone else with you?"
"Of course I'm okay. It's only dark. I have a stomach ache and a headache. Why else would an old man come to a pharmacy late at night?"
"Is anyone with you," asked the young man again.
"No. Why would I need anyone with me?"
"Just stay here. I have to see if anyone else is in the store. Just stay here, don't go anywhere," said the young man as he walked away continuing his search for people in the dark.
"Of course I'll stay here. Where do you expect me to go? Wander around in the dark like some old lady?"
After a few minutes, the young man circled back and approached Paul from behind.
"Alright, we're the only ones in here. I had to close up tonight and you're the only customer. Let's go out the front and I'll lock up. The lights should come on in a minute."
"I came here for some medicine," said Paul. "This is what I need."
"I can't sell you anything," said the young man. "No power, the computers won't work."
"No problem with me. I'll just take it," said Paul. You have Cokes over their by the front. I'll take one of those to wash this down. Maybe even a Snickers bar to settle my stomach."
"You can't steal that stuff," said the young man.
"What's it matter to you? Is it going to break the Walgreens corporation? You going to stop me? Arrest me? Rough me up? I'm an old man you know."
"Fine, take what you want. Just come on, let's get out of here," said the young man as he turned and walked towards the store entrance.
Paul grinned and started walking in the same direction. The young man noticed that Paul wasn't right behind him, so he returned.
"Are you coming?" asked the young man.
"Yes, I'm coming. What's it look like I'm doing? Reading a novel?" answered Paul. "If you haven't noticed, I hobble around with a cane. I don't move too fast. You ever notice that about people who carry canes?"
The young man rolled his eyes and breathed out long, slowly, and loudly. He moved his feet forward three steps and back two and a half. That kept him on pace with Paul. This back and forth crawl continued until they were both in sight of the front door. At that point, the young man left Paul to his own pace and went to the door.
The door didn't open.
The young man read the emergency instructions and pushed on the door. The door didn't budge. He pushed several more times, each try with more force and grunt than the previous one.
"What gives?" he asked in frustration.
"Trouble with the door kid?" asked Paul.
The young man turned to see Paul at the checkout counter. An opened antacid box lay on the counter. Paul held two tablets with his tongue as he opened a 16-ounce bottle of Coke. He proceeded to wash down the medicine, plop the Coke on the counter, and open a Snickers bar.
The young man started to chastise Paul about theft, but stopped short. Instead, he turned back to the door and tried several more times to open it. Nothing moved.
"They don't make things like they used to, do they kid?" asked Paul between bites of Snickers and drinks of Coke.
The young man looked at the door, looked at Paul snacking away, and gave up. He walked over near Paul, grabbed a bag of Fritos and a Sprite, and sat on the floor at Paul's feet. Paul eased himself down next to the young man.
"See," said Paul. "Relax a bit. Enjoy yourself. Don't hurry so much. That's an electric door. It'll probably start working again when the lights come on. You ought to report it though."
"Yeah," added the young man. "It wouldn't do if the building were on fire and we were stuck in here."
"Sonny, if the building were on fire that door wouldn't keep us in here."
"Oh yeah, what would you do?" asked the young man.
"Half a dozen different things. For one, I would grab that fire extinguisher and ..."
"Put out the fire," interupted the young man. "I get it."
"No," said Paul. "I'm not a fireman and neither are you. Firemen use extinguishers to fight fires. The rest of us use them to get out of the building. I'd throw the fire extinguisher through the glass door and walk out. I have half a mind to do that now. I could claim claustrophobia. I'm an old man you know. We get that way sometimes. What is Walgreens going to do, throw my in jail for breaking some glass when their faulty door trapped my in the store?"
"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"
"No, not everything, but most things," answered Paul. "What's your name, kid?"
The young man turned to face Paul and pulled his vest towards Paul showing his name tag to him. "Jim, Jim Morris."
"Jim, nice name, short, easy to say, easy to spell. I'm Paul Billups, age 77, retired."
"Okay, Mr. Billups. What..."
"Paul, my name is Paul. Call me Paul."
"Okay Paul, what now?"
"We enjoy the finer things in life. A fine drink, fine food, good conversation. What more do a couple of guys need?"
"I need some sleep," said Jim.
"Don't sleep your life away, Jim. Learn to enjoy the moment. A cool afternoon under a shade tree in Southeast Asia, a drink on a wooden bench next to the Great Wall, a dark night in a store in Jerkwater USA."
"What old...I mean Paul. You telling me you were in Vietnam or something?"
"Vietnam? Vietnam was for ... never mind. Indo China kid."
"Indian what?" asked Jim.
"Indo China. Look it up on the net. I-n-d-o-c-h-i-n-a."
"Yeah right," mumbled Jim. "So I will enjoy the moment. Sitting on a dirty floor with an old man waiting for some power guy to come get the lights on."
"Call for help with your cell phone," suggested Paul. "You do have a cell phone? You do know how to use a cell phone, don't you Jim?"
Jim paused a moment. Of course he had a cell phone and of course... "Stop justifying the old guy's suggestions with your time," he thought to himself. He pulled his cell phone from his vest pocket. "What?" he blurted.
"What's the matter Jim, no bars?"
"How'd you know that? How'd you know I had no bars?"
"I didn't know Jim. Just a guess. Besides, why call for help? Where you going to go at this time of night?" asked Paul.
Jim gave up. He sat quietly on the floor and ate two bags of Fritos while sipping a Sprite. He closed his eyes. That felt good.
His eyes popped open. "What was that?" asked Jim.
"What was what?" replied Paul.
"What was that sound. Didn't you hear that sound?" asked Jim.
"Too much gunfire in my life Jim. My ears don't work well. If you say you heard something, so be it."
"Shhh. Listen. Someone is in here."
"We are in here Jim!"
"No, listen. Someone else is in here. Someone came in the back door. That door was locked. Someone is breaking in the back, robbing the store. Sure, why not? The power is off, the alarm system is off. This is the perfect time to break in. We have to get out of here, now. We have to break out the door and get out of here."
"Whoa Jim. Take it easy. If someone is really breaking in, we could have a little fun. Which way is that back door?" asked Paul as he lifted himself off the floor into a crouched but standing position.
"Fun? What do you mean fun?" asked Jim as he remained seated on the floor. "I am not going to ... "
"What are you doing to do Jim?" asked Paul. "Waste your life sitting on the floor? Come on, get up, point me toward the back door. Let's do something here. Let's live."
"You..." Jim gave up again. He stood next to Paul and assumed the same crouched position for a moment. Then he stood erect. "What am I doing?" he thought. "This guy is crazy." "Hey wait a minute," he said aloud. "Stop, wait."
Jim's pleas were in vain. Paul shuffled away from him towards the back of the store. Paul was moving much faster than he did earlier.
"I hear him now," whispered Paul. "Yes, I hear him. He is over there," said Paul as he pointed his cane down an aisle. "I don't think he knows we are here. That's another advantage we have."
"Another advantage?" asked Jim. "What is the first advantage we have?"
"Well young Jim, for one thing, there are two of us. For another, I have this cane," answered Paul.
"Oh great," thought Jim. "This guy has a cane. Doesn't he get it that he has a cane because he cannot walk. And this is an advantage?"
"Wait," whispered Jim. "Did you hear that?"
"No you moron. My hearing is shot. That's why you're here, to be my ears."
"That tinkle. That is the jingle bells on the girls toys. He is two aisles over. At the back end of aisle seven."
"Good. Now you are being useful," said Paul. "You double around and go up the front of the aisle. Count to ten to give me time and make a little noise. The guy will back up right into me. Got it?"
"Got it? Are you kidding?" asked Jim. His protests were too late. Paul had shuffled away into the dark. "Jeez," whispered Jim to himself. "I might as well do what he said. This is nuts."
Jim walked towards the front of the store, over two aisles, and found himself standing at the front end of aisle seven. The burglar was near the back end. At least Jim thought he was back there. He couldn't see him in the dark and since he heard that one jingle bell he hadn't heard him. The guy - the burglar, it could be a female - was somewhere, but Jim wasn't sure where. "He might not even be in the store," thought Jim. "He might be sneaking up behind me," was Jim's second thought. Jim froze.
"Think," whispered Jim. "No, don't think. Just do what the old man said. Make some noise."
Jim was standing next to a rack of magazines. He reached towards the magazines. He felt his hand shaking, then he felt several magazines. Jim tossed them to the floor. "There," he thought. "That made some noise. I did it, just what the..."
Jim's thought was shattered by several cracks in the air followed by a dull thud and a "Got him."
"Who got who?" asked Jim. Silence followed for what seemed to be an eternity.
"I got the burglar. What did you think who got who," said Paul. "Come here and help me with him."
Jim slowly walked through the dark to the back of the aisle. His eyes adjusted enough so that he could see Paul kneeling over a man wearing jeans and a dark jacket. Jim was searching inside the man's jacket.
"Well, look at this," said Paul. "He is carrying."
"He is carrying what?"
"Carrying what? Carrying a piece." answered Paul.
"A piece of what?"
"A piece Jim. A gun. You know, a firearm, a pistol, a rod, a heater."
"You mean...?"
"Yes," said Paul. "I mean he is armed. An armed robber. A real hard core felon here. We are real heroes Jim. We ought to get a medal for this one. Yes, quite a night here Jim."
Jim's legs refused to hold him upright. He sat on the floor and held his forehead with one hand. His head was wet with perspiration.
The three of them remained in this position for several minutes. Jim held his wet head in a hand. Paul held the confiscated handgun pointed at the burglar. Paul's cane was broken in two pieces and lay on the floor. The burglar was sprawled unconsciously between Paul and Jim. Several streaks of blood colored his face.
This arrangement was changed by light. The electricity returned to the store. One minute later the front door opened and footsteps echoed through the store. Jim heard shouts of "Police. Police. Anyone in here?"
"Here. Back here," shouted Jim without a thought.
In a moment, three policemen bounded up aisle seven to find three people on the floor.
"What is this?" asked one policemen.
"This, young constable," said Paul, "is an armed robber. I believe that makes him a felon. With me here is young Jim Morris, local hero."
A second policeman entered the aisle from behind Paul. He asked a similar question and received the exact same answer from Paul. Moments later, one policemen was at the front entrance of the store with Jim and Paul. He scribbled notes as Jim and Paul - mostly Paul - told him their story. The policeman didn't ask any questions. Paul gave the questions and then the answers, prompting Jim now and them for embellishments.
They stopped when two other policemen came to the front escorting the burglar. "Hey," said Paul. "Aren't you going to cuff this guy? What's the deal here?"
The burglar gave Paul a quick glance of disdain and continued out the front door with one policeman. The second policeman walked over to Jim, Paul, and the policeman with the scribbled notes.
"Look, uh," started the policeman as he scratched the top of his head. "That guy drove by, saw the lights were out in the store, and felt that something wasn't right. So he circled and noticed that the back door wasn't all the way shut. Something had wedged in it and held it opened just a bit. He stopped his car next to it and walked in to investigate."
"Wait a minute constable," said Paul. "You are taking this guy's word for it? Aren't you going to cuff him and take him in for questioning? You aren't going to..."
"Sir," said the policemen. "He is a special agent with the FBI. He has the right identification and we confirmed it on the radio. We trust an FBI agent. He lives nearby, and, well, you know."
"Whoa," said Jim. "Paul, dude, you beat up an FBI guy in the dark. You snuck up on an FBI agent and..."
"FBI," snarled Paul. "Those FBI guys are .... well, never mind. Besides Jim, we took out an FBI guy. We did, you and me."
The policemen spoke with Jim and Paul for half an hour. Eventually, the local Walgreens manager arrived. He spoke with the police and then Jim.
"Take off Jim," he said. "I will lock up. You did well."
Jim walked out into the darkness and cool air of night. Paul was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him.
"Well Jim," said Paul. "Not a bad night in Jerkwater USA."
Go to
Dwayne's Home Page
Email me at
d.phillips@computer.org