I worked in a retail store at the end of a strip shopping center, similar to a small Wal-Mart or membership club store. It was large and dim with a lot of tall dusty shelves of merchandise that nobody wanted. At the other end of this strip shopping center was a rival retail store.
Amidst a lot of rain, noise, and smoke outdoors, we were hurriedly preparing for war with the other store. Our strategy was to gather as many berries as we possibly could — blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, strawberries — and place them into small bowls with which we would later arm the catapults.
However, as I was artfully arranging berries in a bowl near the front of the store, the automatic doors opened in a swirl of smoke and a black-clad figure from the other store tossed in a live grenade that landed next to me.
And that’s when I realized, oh, it’s THAT kind of war.
Later, in the middle of everyone running around throwing berries and grenades at each other in the parking lot, I was sent out to the Jack-in-the-Box on the other side of the highway to pick up drinks and milkshakes for everyone. I got there and someone handed me an ice cream cone while I waited in line. And when I got to the front I realized I didn’t have any money.
