Part 1: Lucy

I pulled into the massive parking lot of the Stars and Stripes Superstore on my way to work the other day. I needed, well, wanted to pick up a candy bar. I don’t like it in there--the bright rows of fluorescent lights, endless aisles, the empty stares of the employees. It’s soul sucking. But I really wanted a candy bar. 

I swerved my little Honda into an empty parking space and sat there for a second. The wheel in my hands felt good, solid. This was not a glamorous vehicle by any standard, but it was mine. I got it used, but by now most of the dings were ones I put there myself, most of the miles were mine, it even smelled like me and it was mine…at least until it was time to pay back the student loans.

As I sat there and breathed, I felt the bulge of belly fat roll over my belt.

“Okay, this is my last candy bar,” I promised myself, “Tomorrow I start riding my bike to work. Tomorrow. Today, however, I will enjoy one last candy bar.”

 I slammed the door closed and walked to the store to get my fix.

Inside was a maze of bright lights and On Sale! signs but I knew where to go. My route was well worn and I hardly had to look as I turned down the usual aisle and grabbed my favorite treat. Just out of curiosity I read the ingredients one more time: High fructose corn syrup, sugar, maltodextrin. Well, I guess they hadn’t switched to a more health conscious recipe since yesterday. I was kind of hoping they would so I didn’t have to feel so bad about doing this to myself every day.

“Oh, well, tomorrow I stop. But--why not wait till Sunday? The week’s already shot as it is and--no, no, tomorrow it is.”

Candy in hand, I went to the front of the store and searched for an open register. Waiting in my line of sight was a smiling young woman who waved me into her register and I followed obediently.

“Is this all for you today?” She asked as she scanned my candy bar. 

“Yeah that’s all,” I said, slightly ashamed to have disappointed her with my meager offering. I looked up from the ground for a second and noticed her nametag: Lucy. She totaled up my order with a few fast swipes of her fingers on the computer screen.

“A dollar thirty three is your total. Would you like to sell your soul to the Devil and save ten percent off your purchase?”She asked pleasantly, but automatically.

“If you sign up today you’ll even get a free keychain.”

Taken aback, I looked to her face for an expression that said just kidding but I only saw dead serious eyes waiting for an answer, so I tried to play along.

“Well, can I see the keychain?” I asked.

Like a magician, she seemed to pull one out from thin air and slipped it into my palm.  I was impressed by its heft. This was no plastic trinket given away like so many crumbs to the pigeons; this was high class, chromey. I couldn’t really tell what it was, but it made for a tempting offer: save money and get something for free? Mostly, though, I didn’t feel like I could say no. I didn’t want to seem lame, like someone who reactively says no to everything in life. I’m such a dope.

“Okay, that sounds like a good deal, sure.”

She rewarded my consent with a smile.

“Wonderful! Just sign here and you’ll be enrolled.”

I reached for the pen on the counter and was shaken when she seized my wrist with a forceful NO!

She put on her cashier smile again.

“You sign this with blood.”

Again I looked to her face to say just kidding! but I found no answers there. She pulled a small box cutter from her apron pocket and clicked the blade open.

The sudden rush of adrenaline to my arms rendered them limp and weak. She can’t do that…can she? I looked around. Who was going to stop her? The rules? Me? I was completely incapacitated by someone so flagrantly breaking the rules of polite society and found that I was powerless to enforce them on my own. I was playing by her rules now. My hands and fingers were damp and cold.

All I could think was I can’t believe this is happening, I can’t believe this is happening. Did she sanitize the blade? I can’t believe this is happening.

She pressed the tip of the blade into the damp and squishy flesh of my index finger until the surface broke and a little dot of red appeared.

Wide eyed and slack jawed I could only manage a feeble, “Uhh…” as protest.

She continued on as if this were as ordinary as taking my fingerprints. She pressed my bloodied fingertip firmly onto the designated spot on the receipt which I now saw was printed with the strange characters of a language I had never seen before.

My eyes darted frantically about the lines of foreign symbols for something familiar, a way out. All I found was a smiley face at the bottom accompanying the words Thank you for shopping with us!

She printed off another receipt which she handed to me and kept the one I had just “signed” before telling me to have a nice day.  I knew that was my cue to leave.

In a daze, I walked off to try to have an otherwise nice day. The front doors slid open and again my skin felt the sunshine and cold breeze of early spring. I exhaled. Was I holding my breath the whole time?

I was feeling a bit better as I settled into my car, my familiar seat. Safe inside my box. Inhale, exhale, ahhh. 

Okay that was very strange but things are normal again. This is my car. This is real. This is my steering wheel. This is real. Only when I gripped it did I noticed my finger was wrapped in a band aid. She must have slipped it on somewhere back in our exchange.

“That girl had fast hands,” I thought. Then I patted my coat pocket and heard the familiar crackle of the wrapper. Good, it was still there.

“Well, she may have stolen my soul,” I thought with a chuckle, “but at least she didn’t steal my candy bar.”