Snippet #2525321

David looked vacantly at the selections of cheap beer lined up in the refrigerators at the back of the general store. He opened the door and hooked his fingers into a 12 pack. It didn't matter what brand. A drink and a smoke. He'd do something about dinner on his way home, probably grab some takeout again. It had been a rough day. He took his beer up to front and put it on the counter ordering himself a pack of smokes while he was at it. The bell on the shop door rang as the man before him left but he paid no mind to it. He rubbed absently at the bandages on his right hand a gift he'd received from work earlier that day. The dipshit he worked with at a body shop down town had finally got his due, a fracture jaw and several bruised ribs for giving him a hard time. He'd been at it for weeks, picking and prodding at the way David did his repair jobs. Pestering him about the shit he should check, as if he'd never done it before. He'd been a grease monkey for most of his youth preferring that over any desk job. There was something satisfying about getting your hands dirty in order to earn for your living.

Of course, he'd gotten fired for starting the fight. He was the new guy the outsider and he'd thrown the first punch. David tossed the bills onto the counter and took his things. The guy at the register seemed preoccupied vaguely nodding his thanks, his eyes seemed locked on what was going on at the door. Suddenly the tired shop seemed to stir into motion as the man from outside came in. 'Pops', the man at the register secured the door after him.

"What in the hell was that Jim? Whats wrong with those people?"

"I've no fuckin Idea Pops, but I think we should call the sheriff."

David wasn't paying any attention to the conversation, he just wanted to get home.

"'the hell is going on." His voice was tired, unused but stern in it's disapproval. He didn't like this. He put his beer down and approached the two.