Sometimes We Go Bad

Sun Valley Grocery wasn't far from the local mall. The name of this mall is unimportant. It was home to more than three dozen retail businesses, not counting the built-in carousel, the massage stands, and the various food and antique vendors who hosted their shows there. The businesses dropped and swapped out on a regular basis, though there were some mainstays that had been there for generations. Among these was a clothing store by the name of Harpin's. It was a family place, run by the Harpins since before the First World War. The family was even still involved with the business, unlike a lot of families who once founded such enterprises. They had about the same distance from the store's operation as a producer has from the movies they work on, but they did cameo now and again to see how things were going.

People treated it with the dignity a small business deserved, though the growth of the great apathy disease had its impact there, too. What matters is that they were open till 11 PM. Strange things happened around that time. There was a time when a customer—a female customer—was going through the dresses, and found a man back there. A cashier. He had his pants off. She screamed, anticipating the worst, finding minor security in the fact that even if it was 10:30 there'd be people around to help her.

The cashier, Fred, didn't intend to harm her, even as he revealed that he had a straight razor. His one hand held onto his loosened belt. Suddenly, his belt-hand snapped down and took a firm, painful-looking hold on his genitals. With a single swift motion—left to right—he castrated himself. Scrotum, penis, everything. The store hung in silence for a few moments. There were other customers who had heard the lady scream. She and they stared down at him in silence as the geysers of blood he'd unleashed seemed to float in the empty air.

The screaming resumed immediately afterward, with everyone in the store releasing a collective shriek—everyone except the manager. She came down the aisle and immediately threw their largest overcoat on top of Fred. The cops were already on their way. “Everyone, please leave,” she said with a smile. “There's nothing to see here. Nothing at all. Please, leave, and try to forget what you saw...”

Everyone involved was all too eager to do so.

It wasn't exactly public knowledge, what happened to Fred once he'd done that. No one who had gone to high school with Fred remembered him as being out of the ordinary, aside from perhaps being a bit homely. He was a hairy man with a large brow area, and he frequently suffered from halitosis. It was believed that this incident was his end—he couldn't have survived the horrifying blood loss he'd endured, right? If he hadn't died he was probably in jail, or a mental health facility. If the woman sought to press charges she'd have indecent exposure in the bag. She could sue him for emotional damages—she didn't want to sue the store, though, because then they'd go out of business and she couldn't shop there.

Time passed, and the store forgot and forgave. Small businesses are good at that. The owners heard about what had happened, and so they were notified personally when Fred's brother, rather implausibly named “Ted,” applied for a cashier position. In fact he interviewed with them personally, and it was the first time they'd interviewed in decades.

“Ted, are you—are you comfortable working in a place where...?”

“Yes,” he said. “My brother was troubled. But I assure you I won't let you down like he did.”

“That wasn't what we were worried about.”

He went silent, and they surveyed how similar he was to his brother. The same peach-fuzz mustache. The same bad-smelling breath, seasoned with the odor of many different types of mint spray. But he was employable. And the next week he had the job.

He blended in easily. Months went without so much as a bad coupon for him.

And so one night it was almost 11. The last customers were lining up but few bought clothes from a mall at 10:55 PM. Especially with words still lingering about what had happened with one of their cashiers.

Eleanor had only just gotten off of work, and that's why she was here, to play the role of Final Customer. She saw that the clock turned to 10:59 while the cashier was ringing her up. She mouthed “I'm sorry” at him, very, very sincerely. It must be Hell working in a mall, she thought. There was so much sensory input—it was a rush of smell and tastes and colors. She'd stick with Sun Valley.

He only smiled at her, indicating that she was following all the Rules correctly. His smile dropped quickly as he got back to work. Eleanor suddenly felt the compulsion to look around her.

The lights were going down. There must be a manager somewhere to finish closing the place. She couldn't see them and so she entertained the possibility that the cashier controlled the lights. Seeing the lamp-light fade away from the displays was one thing, but she couldn't even look at the mannequins as it went dark around them. It was too horrible. But she had a bad habit of staring at things she shouldn't, and so she was staring at these dolls in the dusk, as she felt minutes creep. Oh shit—minutes? It was closing time!

No, it was still 10:59. And she had her card chipped, so it was almost done.

Then—11:00.

She looked at the cashier, planning to apologize again. But suddenly, she saw that he was smiling.

She looked down. He wasn't advancing the next part of the transaction on his end. He just kept staring at her. And that was when she saw the drool bead on his lip.

Suddenly her age-old desire to have a sword flared up again. She immediately felt unsafe. Now his hand creeping to a button. It was the button to close the mall gate for the evening. He was going to lock her in with him.

But no, he was moving his hand away. Maybe he was just being passive-aggressive, which was allowable in some circumstances. But now his hand was headed for hers, as she finally typed in her PIN, with him having advanced the checkout.

His fingers had nearly inched onto hers when she finished up. She jerked her card back and pulled the bag off the counter. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes diligently sweeping for a tip jar. There was none so she began to walk away.

“Hey, girlie,” the one called Ted said suddenly. “You ever wonder what happens down here at night?”

She didn't want to know but she stopped. Her hand on her invisible sword.

“You ever wonder?” he slobbered.

“No.”

“The souls come out and dance quietly on the floorboards. The—the ghosts.”

She gulped. In his hand suddenly was a straight razor.

“It gets pretty spooky down here. At night.”

“I bet.”

How she'd choked that out she had no idea, but as soon as she exited the limits of the store the iron gate slammed upward. As if that guy was planning on spending the night in there.

In the dark.

She thought she heard laughter. It could have just been him, but it started out coming out in two voices.

She figured it was a good time to get out of the mall.