A DECEMBER NIGHT AT TARGET
The world-weary grandfather trudged up Aisle A-8, down Aisle A-9. Up A-8 again. Down A-9 again. He could have sworn the ground was getting softer as he paced.
The Disney-created creatures stared back at him tauntingly. Puppy Dog Pals. Doc McStuffins. And oh my, the My Little Ponys. The grandfather was sure he could have built a stable with all the Little Ponys.
But the object of his search remained elusive.
Finally, he dragged himself to the merchant’s stand, where a 20-something named Austin regarded the grandfather with what could only be described as a mixture of pity and condescension.
“Vampirina?” he intoned. “Vampirina? We ran out of her in two days about three weeks ago. Are you ever out of luck.”
The crestfallen grandfather gazed downward and mumbled, “Could you … maybe look in the back?”
With an audible sigh, Austin snatched the paper from the grandfather’s hand, and his fingers danced around his phone. Suddenly, a raised eyebrow – one raised eyebrow. “Wait a minute. I’ll be right back,” he said, scurrying toward an unseen corner of Target.
A minute later, Austin returned. His face was slightly flushed.
“We got a shipment last night. At 1:48 a.m. last night,” he whispered. “We got one. One.”
The grandfather softly cradled the prized package. As he left, he looked over his shoulder at Austin, and he just couldn’t resist.
“Timing’s a *****, isn’t it, Austin?”
