by Jack Swenson

I'm in a grocery store when the earthquake hits. A woman screams, and an aisle of shelves in the liquor section falls over, filling my nostrils with the smell of whiskey. I crawl along the floor looking for a hole to hide in. The Mad Hatter and the Queen of Hearts are huddled together by a checkout stand arguing about the size of the quake; she claims it was at least an eight; he says, no no. When the shaking stops, a man gets to his feet and peers over the counter at a clerk who is cowering on the floor below the cash register. "Hey," he says in a loud voice, "can't a guy get any service around here?"


Jack Swenson teaches creative writing at a Senior Center and spends most of his spare time writing. His wife thinks he should be working in the yard. Check out his books at iuniverse.com or amazon.com.


Quin said...

that made me snort in laughter

writerwoman said...

It reminded me of the recent news stories of people walking right over dead and bleeding bodies in the hospital ER and in a grocery store. It tapped right into that modern sense of 'time waits for no one' and 'me, me, me' mentality. If it was meant to be a moral tale I would say it worked. I liked it.