Monday night, the disposable styrofoam coolers were filled with
unbagged trail mix. Terri had to rinse them out Tuesday in between re-
stocking runs. On Wednesday morning Delia found romance novels strewn
all over the store, redistributed by their themes: winsome tailors and
models went with clothing, heartsick carpenters in Home Repair, single
fathers alongside Toys & Games. Delia set Terri the task of restoring
order and warned her to make extra sure all the doors were locked when
she closed. Nobody wanted to see the shenanigans continue, she said.

	"Let's face it," said Minh as she downed the last of the whiskey,
"we've been thinking small, and you've paid the price."
	Terri nodded in wistful agreement. "We must choose. Unnoticeable,
or irreparable." They'd ruled out everything in aisles 1-4 and the tempt-
ing but unfruitful new lawnmowers. "What about the pharmacy?"
	Minh batted at the air with one hand. "Too much potential for harm
if we screw up."
	"That stuff can't all have active ingredients. Half of it rings
under department 12, and you don't even need a pharmacist on duty for
those."
	Minh relented.
	Terri's first pass produced a basketful of products potentially
useful in what they had agreed would be one final stunt. "No hair products
-- too obvious. No dental -- old people are the most likely to complain.
Earplugs?"
	Minh shrugged. She couldn't see it.
	"Herbal remedies? We could grind them up and put them in the
Slurpees for weeks."
	That got a giggle. "Direct experimentation on customers was for-
bidden by the Reno Convention of 1999. You don't want them to convene a
court-retail, do you?" She pirouetted and hopped down aisle 14.
	A fluorescent-light gleam entered Terri's eyes. "Estrogen!" She
waved a bottle above her head. "Estrogen for everyone! Estrogen to go 
with factory-direct bugzapper overstock! The very essence of femininity
smeared on the stocks of our rifles just in time for deer season! Estro-
gen free with purchase for men who eat S'Mores and women who've had their
asses chopped up by doctors! Powdered or jellied, no meal is complete
without it! No outfit's in style if you aren't popping the big E to go
with it!"
	"I think I've heard about enough," said the night pharmacist, ris-
ing from his swivelchair to lay a hand on Terri's arm. Minh collided with
a bin of 50-cent tea candles and lay on her back, laughing at herself and
the Disney coloring books gracefully somersaulting off the rack at her
feet.

	Dinner at The Cajun Chrysanthemum soothed the remaining pain of a
summary dismissal. Rice flew everywhere as Terri regaled everyone with her
story. Minh, still smelling faintly of lilies and wax, said nothing, but
fished Terri's extra house key out of her pocket. Something with fish,
perhaps? Crockery? Polaroids?

written for Meredith Talusan at my kitchen table 10/5/01

Ah, Reno. I think the Wal-Mart there is the only one I've been to more than once, and always in a state of complete exhaustion. If I were filthy rich, I'd buy one of those big discount stores and move in with 50 people to live off the fat of the linoleum until the inventory was depleted. At least, that's how I've always felt when I was in one. Huge aisles like that call out for tents.

This story's sort of disjointed. I'm a little worried that it sounds like I think estrogen is biologically inert or something, which is not the case.

A court-retail is like a court-martial, you know? But what is factory-direct merchandise doing in a store? I wasn't really thinking.

My big goal right now is to work on timing, particularly with paragraph breaks and blank lines. I'd say those worked out well here. Elapsed time: one hour, give or take a few minutes to watch a sex scene from The Tailor Of Panama. (My roommates were watching the whole movie. I'm not THAT twisted.)

- everything is by Aaron Mandel; please ask first if you're about to steal something -

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