Death Wednesday
Jonathan Greer
-Seriously? He asked. The look on his face said it all. -You take me to Walmart the day before Thanksgiving? Did I do something to offend you?
She laughed and reached for a box of bread crumbs.
-I mean, I think I’d know what I had done to deserve this. Walmart. On Death Wednesday. Nice.
-Death Wednesday? She asked, scanning the ingredients on the back of the box.
-Yes. It’s like Black Friday, but worse. At least you get killer deals on Friday. Some good comes out of it. But this, here he pointed to the scrambling horde, This sucks. This is just punishment for the unprepared. We don’t deserve this.
She put the box in the cart. -Well, at least we’re together. We could try to have fun.
They walked to the checkstand. The line seemed infinite.
-Death Wednesday, huh, she said in a daze.
-Happy Thanksgiving, he muttered, his face already in a tabloid.
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