Snippet #1821058

Bonnie stated her business, and Bill quickly recalled an order for Mr. Pheldman arriving a few days earlier. "Yep, I remember a package arriving for him just the other day." Bill said, stepping back and looking at the shelves under the counter. He spotted it and bent to withdraw it. In that moment, the jingle of the bell above the door jingled. Bill stood with the package in hand, about to say a greeting to whomever had stepped in. That is, until he saw who it was as a spew of self righteous, racist garbage came from his mouth. Sheriff Crawley, local law-man and typical fat bigot.

Henry explained his business, at which the sheriff sputtered or laughed, maybe both. Bill wasn't sure, but in that same instant Crawley was staring at him. "Ain't that right, Bill?"

Bill set the package down on the counter and scooted it to his left. He set both his hands on the counter, about shoulder width apart, and leaned forward slightly. Just enough to insinuate a firm stance for the law-man. "Well, with all due respect Sheriff, I'd say I do have big ol' boxes of matches back here. And I'd have to say, that any man or woman with enough money to pay for a book or two can buy some. Anything else in the store, same story. So, with all due respect, Sheriff Crawley, unless you'd care to purchase something, door's that way." Bill paused and grinned, taking a final drag of the dying cigarette he'd left. "I'm sure there's a empty chair at the barber shop, if you're just looking to shoot the breeze."

Bill pulled out a box from beneath the counter, full of match boxes. He turned his eyes from Crawley to Henry. He slowly turned his eyes back on Crawley. He wasn't about to let this kind of crap happen on his watch, not in his family's store. No matter his Grandfather's or father's views, even they'd considered everyone equal when it came to business. William himself believed in a bigger equality, a full equality. And, in true Irish fashion, Bill wasn't one to budge on his beliefs for anyone. Or any circumstances.