Short Fiction

Independence day

By Christian Mueth

Hope’s shoes were immaculate. So was her outfit. Though, her hair — there were a few strands shifted out of place. It created a stinging in my stomach. Come to think of it, it still does. Couldn’t she have had hair that frizzed a little less? It is such a little thing to fix.

Nonetheless, my head held high. I kept my wits about me about as much as I could. Everybody that walked by had a gleam in their eye. A few even waved. No doubt, they were all enamored by my outfit. I was decked out in my best business suit. The fact that I kept my watch on my sleeve probably didn’t hurt.

The cart’s wheels screeched as we pulled into the peanut butter aisle. Scanning the aisle for incomers, I put my arm over Hope’s shoulder and drew her close. With any luck, my display of affection would distract from our annoying cart.

“Honey, do you think that they’ll want the chunky peanut butter, or the smooth peanut butter?” I asked.

I grabbed the smooth peanut butter. The question had been a formality, really. The thought of chunky peanut butter was revolting. All that goop mixed with solid matter — something was the matter with whoever ate that trash.

Hope slipped out from under my arm and studied the jam. As she did, she gave an exaggerated sweep across her shoulder. She made a huff.

“I don’t know why you insisted on wearing that thing Avery,” she said. “The cuffs feel like sandpaper.”

“It’s my best business suit. Why wouldn’t I be wearing it? Don’t you want me to dress my best?”

“Not sure if a family gathering is the best fit, but…”

She grabbed a bottle of jam from the shelf.

“This look good to you?” she asked.

She went to put it in the cart. I would’ve taken it from her — it was an inferior jam, chock full of artificial sweeteners and preservatives — but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. It was a small miracle that I’d managed to get the cart full of as many of the correct items as I had.

My grocery list gave off a glow as my pen scratched off the last item. I’d gotten everything. It was the perfect combination of items. I had accounted for the food preferences of every member in Hope’s family, while simultaneously accounting for mine. It was going to be a hit. I was sure of it.

The store’s music picked up in a triumphant thrum as we left the aisle and made our way for the checkout line. All the while, people’s heads turned as they continued to check me out. They loved me, didn’t they?

“Mission accomplished,” I said, flashing my patented smile.

“You always need to say that?” Hope said, flashing one right back.

Her smile looked duller then than when I’d first met her. No doubt, Hope’s looks were beginning to lose their luster.

“When the mission is accomplished, yeah,” I said.

“But are you sure we shouldn’t get some Mayor Houck pins before we leave?”

She grabbed a baggy of bright pins from off a shelf and looked at me despairingly.

Suddenly, the walkway toward the checkout lane was too bright. Intrusive colors were everywhere, blasting my brain for attention. I wanted to ignore it all.

Waving the pins in my face, she continued. “Please? It’ll make for such cute pictures.”

I wanted to ignore her. My heartrate rose, and my lip was curling. Why could she bring that out of me?

“Today isn’t about Mayor Houck,” I said, coolly. “We got all the things that we need.”

“He was a colleague of yours though, wasn’t he? Or, at least a —.”

“Please, I never even talked to the guy for his entire time in office,” I said. I felt my voice raise. It shouldn’t have felt good.

“But it does help to remember Thomas Jefferson and John Adams died on July 4th.” I was level again. Control is never out of reach. “And I don’t see anybody making a big hoopla about that. Mayor Houck was just a guy, honey. He’s a year gone. Who cares?”

A few people were giving me dirty looks. I swear of it. I swerved into the checkout lane and tossed our items onto the belt. Getting out of the cursed store was the priority. I was already beginning to see cracks in the place.

Grime covered the floors, there was a relentless squeal in the conveyor belt, the tiles were loose, and my head was getting noisy. So annoying, how problems swarm like that. Face warming, I readjusted my collar and shot a grin at the cashier.

“How are you doing today?” the cashier said. He picked at a pimple, hardly looking up from his screen.

People pay the runts so freaking much, and they can’t even bother pretending to be excited. My entire cart was on the belt before he even scanned an item.

After scanning a few items through, he shot me a look. He looked away. “I swear, I’ve seen you somewhere before. On TV or something, maybe?”

I chuckled and gave Hope a nudge. Of course, she just rolled her eyes. It was impossible to impress her.

He took a second look.

“Wait… You’re the guy on all those signs and billboards. You running for mayor or something?”

“Avery McNider, and treasurer’s office, actually,” I said. “Being the mayor… Such a waste of time, really. No money in it.”

My eyes went to my watch, then to the clock in their walls. The tick on their clock was off by a second. If only clockmakers could get everything to run smoothly. There’d be no need to check.

“Are you using debt, for credit?” the cashier asked.

“Come again?” I said.

He’d been making a sly jab. It was thanks to me that our town’s debt was almost gone — and here he was, acting like I was wrong for taking credit.

“Debit or credit?” he said, spacing his words cautiously.

He knew that he’d set off a button. He’d known what he was doing. Yet, he dared to play ignorant. The gall on some people is simply astounding.

I was going to tell him debit and insert my card. Though, the plush animals by the checkout stared at me. Particularly, a stuffed bear. Its beady eyes pried at me, attempting to break into my soft tissues. Its furry face feigned innocence, but I knew better. I could see the pure fury broiling beneath the surface.

“How much is that plushy?” Hope asked.

The cashier chuckled. “The Sir Stuffs-a-Lot? 5 bucks. You seen the cartoon?”

Hope snatched up the plushy, without bothering answering him. She’d been paying attention to my gaze the whole time. Don’t ask me how, but she’d caught onto the fact that the plushy had been taunting me. She was trying to join in.

To think that I once considered her a partner. That goes to show how naive we can be, even with our best preparations.

“Hope, we already purchase all of our items for the day,” I said. “Remember the list?”

She smirked as she pulled the stuffed bear down on the conveyor belt. She remembered. I’d hammered home the idea into her a million times, until my face shone beet red. Meanwhile, the bear’s fur on the belt glinted a blood maroon.

“Come on Avery,” she said, with a pout. “It’s fourth of July! Can’t you just make an exception to your stupid rule?”

I looked at the price tag. Twenty dollars. That was way beyond what I was willing to spend. I looked at the bear. I’d turned my back for one moment, and it’d become a sight that sent shivers down my spine.

The bear was animated. Not cartoon animation — no. Living. Pulsing. Palpable. Its chest undulated inward and outward, as though it had breath. It gave me a toothy grin, jagged teeth being prominent. They had a cold glow, like light bordering an event horizon.

I wanted to shout, “Are you seeing this?” but my throat was parched. Something was choking me. Worse, time had stopped. I scanned Hope, then the cashier. Their faces were frozen with looks of contempt.

It’s funny — they’d been pretending to be so happy around me. Yet, the stopping of time had locked them in micro-expressions, and their true feelings were clear as day.

“Hello,” said the stuffed bear.

I ignored him, and tried shoving my debit card in the machine. Though, it didn’t respond.

“That’s rude,” said the bear. “How would you feel if somebody didn’t respond to you when you talked?”

“I stopped talking to stuffed animals when I was five,” I said. “Maybe earlier. Now, if you don’t want the stuffing knocked out of you, I’d knock it off.”

The bear leaned from its place on the conveyor belt and patted me on the shoulder.

“So much power, going to so much waste,” it said. “I hope you treasure your position as treasurer. Because, I have an inkling you’re not going to have it for much longer.”

By that point, there was no ignoring the thing. It’s true that, by acknowledging it, I was playing exactly into its fuzzy paws. Though, what was I to do? The world was still moving in slow motion, and a buzz was growing in my head. Furthermore, there was a relief that came with talking to the bear.

An anger beat beneath its little chest. It held a solidarity with my rage at the universe. Something about that was soothing.

“What’s your game, exactly?” I asked.

“Sir Stuffs-a-Lot is the name, playtime is the game,” it said. He gave a little squeak. “And, believe me: it’s playtime.”

The lights to the store flickered, before coming back on with a clinical hue. As colors desaturated, my skin saturated with sweat.

I whipped my blackberry out of my pocket.

“Hope, I think there was something in that stupid breakfast sandwich you bought me,” I said. She remained contrapposto. “If anybody has anything to do with this freak show, reveal yourselves now!”

I pressed the phone’s power button in a blitzkrieg, but the screen was locked bleach white.

“I love a good feast,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot.

“You’re not getting a lick of my groceries,” I said.

“Who was talking about the groceries?”

I grabbed the bear by the throat. It bit me on the wrist, then wriggled its way back to the conveyor belt. It’d left a bite mark in my skin. Worse, there were scuff marks on my watch.

“Screw you!” I said.

“Right back at you,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot said. “You choked me first.”

“Well, you’ve been giving me the creeps.”

“And that’s my fault? Can’t a bear taunt a guy about killing him, in peace?”

My lips puckered. There was no way that the bear had just said what I’d thought it said.

“Way to go, with your embezzling,” Sir Stuffs-A-Lot said. “God, I hate politics… I didn’t want to have to kill you either, really. But, I mean, you leave me know choice.”

My hand edged near a packet of lighters. Mind you, I do not support incinerating one’s enemies in the slightest. But desperate times sometimes call for that.

“It’s fourth of July,” I said. “Can’t we just let bygones be bygones?”

“Sounds lame,” Sir Stuffs-A-Lot said. He jumped past the conveyor belt and began rubbing his fuzzy butt in my groceries. “Fourth of July is the perfect day for vengeance.”

“Hey, stop that!”

It was too late. My groceries were floating in the air now, moving back toward their shelves. I was going to need to shop for things all over again. My eyes went to my list for a sense of reassurance, only to watch it turn to dust.

“What the hell are you?” I asked.

“Your penance,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot. “I emerge election year or so, to destroy blood-sucking politicians.”

“You choose to be a care bear?”

Sir Stuffs-A-Lot shrugged. “Suck it.”

This had been shaping up to be a perfect day, up until now. It was all the bear’s fault. The weird things always happen to me.

“Strange that I’ve never heard anything about you, until today. You just think you can storm in, and take over?”

“The same things can be said about you. You just tried to take over the town, with an iron fist.”

“Only the money. And, I’ve given back to the community too!” I said.

“How?”

I stood still for a moment. Stress shot through me. Pop quizzes should’ve ended back in middle school.

“I — I care about these people?” I said, trying to gauge the bear’s reaction.

I leaned over at the cashier and pinched his cheeks.

“Like this guy! He’s awesome!”

I glanced at my bags. There were holes in some of them. Clearly, he was awful. Though, then, that would’ve ruined my point.

“Do you want to know what happened to Mayor Houck?” asked Sir Stuffs-A-Lot.

“He died while choking on some frozen yogurt,” I said. “Well, on the toppings to his frozen yogurt, if you want to get technical…”

“Precisely. I orchestrated all of that. From the moment Mayor Houck had entered the frozen yogurt bar, I’d been watching in the wings, manipulating the environment. He was doomed to die, before he ever took a bite.”

“Always hated that guy,” I said, suppressing a laugh. “Super glad that you offed him. He wanted to raze the treasurer’s office and run it himself.”

“He was pretty awful,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot. “The history of this town is littered with bad politicians, in fact. Ever notice how many of the bad politicians die?”

“All politicians in this town die.”

“That’s been me.”

I nodded. It all added up.

“What’s with all of the politicians in this town who’ve died from heart attacks?” I asked. “If you’re going to kill a bunch of politicians, might as well get creative about it.”

“The plastic faces politicians put on are hideous. And, the faces they make when they have a heart attack are downright hilarious,” Sir Stuffs-A-Lot said. He was wheezing more than a leaking balloon.

“But, what about me? I’m not a bad person,” I said.

I’m not sure how, but Sir Stuffs-A-Lot made the store more dead than it already had been.

“You’re just the worst,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot, breaking the silence. “You don’t even have a tortured past or anything. You’re a plain old asshole.”

He touched me in the center of my forehead, and my life flashed before my eyes. I was flung from my perfect childhood, to my perfect education, to my perfect adulthood. He had a point, perhaps. Most of my life had been spent checking my status, gossiping about the status of others, or working to attain status.

“In my defense, I was given anything and everything I possibly could’ve needed to succeed in life,” I said. “Am I really to be blamed for turning out to be incredibly greedy and selfish?”

Sir Stuffs-A-Lot was on my face now, using his stubby arms to compress each side of my skull.

“I blame the system,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot.

“Oh, thank God.”

“Unfortunately, you are the system.”

The pressure grew. I tore at the bear and my hair, hoping something would give. More images fluttered by, of instances when I’d manipulated things to get my way. Personally, I don’t see what the issue was. Nonetheless, a heat emanated from the bear, and it was only getting hotter.

“Please, give me mercy! There are too many things I want to do with my life!”

Tears were rolling down my face now. I would’ve given anything for time to resume, and to hear Hope’s voice again.

“I sense an inherent goodness in your heart,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot. “I must’ve misjudged. I will relieve you, on the condition that you change your ways. You must clean up this town — make it better.”

“Yeah, yeah! Just don’t kill me!”

Inherent goodness? Fat chance. I think that he was sensing the guitar tattoo I’d gotten over my chest when I was 17. Nonetheless, when the pain receded, I wasn’t going to correct him.

“Thank you,” I said, panting to catch my breath.

I leaned my body against the conveyor belt.

“Also, give me your watch,” said Sir Stuffs-A-Lot.

“Why?”

It gave me its cutest puppy-dog eyes. “Because, you parasite.”

Gingerly, I unlatched the watch from around my wrist. Stooping, I fastened it around Sir Stuffs-A-Lot’s. It barely fit, making Sir Stuffs-A-Lot’s body sag. Hatred swept through me. The only thing that quelled my wrath was that the bear had spared my life.

“You better take good care of it, Sir Stuffs-A-Lot!” I said. “You have no idea how many people I screwed over, to pay for that thing. That watch is a work of god. Priceless. Priceless!”

The cashier cleared his throat, then began filling my cart with our bags.

“You okay?” Hope asked, raising an eyebrow.

The lights to the store flickered back to their full brightness. My phone flickered on and off half a dozen times.

“Yes,” I said, drawing myself back to my full height.

I picked up Sir Stuffs-A-Lot, dangling him in front of me. The watch was still latched to his arm. Yet, everything else had returned to as it was, as though my conversation with Sir Stuffs-A-Lot had never occurred.

“So, you like him?” asked Hope.

“If we’re going to give him to your family as a gift, might as well toss in my watch. Keep it classy.”

“They’ll just adore him, honey!” Hope said.

I readjusted my collar and wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead. “Dear, I hope so.”

We walked out of the store with all eyes remaining on us. I’m still not sure if the store was appalled or enamored. I like to think both. I’ve always thought myself quite the show.

Hope’s family hated the bear’s guts. They also hated me, as it happens. Oh, and the day went up in fireworks.

The family left early — they didn’t want to hear about how I was about to turn a new leaf and stop being corrupt, for some reason. We didn’t even get to see the actual town fireworks. Go figure.

Once election day rolled around, I won my position as treasurer. Unfortunately, I can’t really bring myself to do anything corrupt anymore. Thus, my money has dried up. I was kind of freaked out by Sir Stuffs-A-Lot. As a little addendum, the new mayor has a strong stance against corruption, and watches me like a hawk.

I keep Sir Stuffs-A-Lot around. He’s always watching, from my desk. He’s a nice reminder of something; I’m just not sure what. I guess I don’t want him to ruin my heart.

Did I mention that Hope left me? The balls on that bitch…

Peanut butter sandwiches are healthy for the heart, I’ve heard. Especially with jam. I make sure to make them without error. In due time, I’ll have impeccable health.

Once I’ve achieved that, I can work on improving the town’s economy. Right now, I just don’t care.

I suppose that Sir Stuffs-A-Lot taught me a lot, after all.

End