Issue #163 : Chick Free For All

 

“Back away from the bird, bitch.”

This was what his day had become.

One simple oversight.

The advertising blimp hovering over the city had said, “One free roasting chicken with every purchase.” Not what it was supposed to say. 

Jan had come up with the idea to use the blimp for their marketing campaign. He just hadn’t proofread the copy. Now the store had turned into a middle-upper class suburban war zone, with people determined to cash in on an offer that he now had no choice but to honor.

The crowd swarmed from side to side, voices rising in unison. Different sets of hands waged war on their way towards claiming one of the precious few chickens left in the freezer.

Jan stepped forward to try and separate two women who were now swinging at each other. As he did so, a heavy-set man grabbed the back of his apron and pulled hard, using the momentum to propel himself through the crowd like a wreaking ball. He split through two grandmothers, reached over a stumbling housewife and with one giant hand, palmed the last chicken.

The protests from the crowd immediately rose to a crescendo; all of them demanding access to the secret stash they were certain was being hidden for only the best customers. Jan jerked his apron back to center.

“Hey! People!” he cried out with his hands in the air. “There’s another truck pulling up.” Little did they know that the truck was delivering produce. Still, they dispersed, rushing off towards new prey and leaving him behind in the most fleeting moment of respite. It would likely only be minutes before they would be back and this would start all over again.

It was a glorious day for shopping.

He shoved through the swinging doors next to the meat department and ran down the narrow stairs, barely noticeable next to the recycling bins. At the bottom, he took out his key ring and with a trembling hand disengaged three separate locks before opening it and stepping through.

The air of the cooler down below the store made his arms stand up in goosebumps and he rubbed them to try and keep the circulation going.

“Shouldn’t have offered that deal.”

He looked up to see Kristof sitting at the far work bench, looking back over his shoulder through thin spectacles. “Shouldn’t have made that deal,” he repeated. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Jan asked. “It’s bedlam up there. We need to come up with some product. Now.”

“Don’t have time to wait for the next shipment?”

“I think they’ll be more likely to destroy the building before that happens.”

“So what do you expect me to—”

“Kristof, come on.”

“If you don’t have any more chickens in the—”

“God dammit Kristof, will you get with the picture? You know what I need.”

Kristof sighed and looked up at the walls where the bodies hung in silent observation. Some of them were former customers who had been a problem regularly and had mysteriously stopped shopping at the store. Others were former staff who had left town abruptly for other jobs and weren’t heard from since. Some of them were simply drunks who had failed to find their way home and ended up here. The finish line for all of them would be in the large freezer, neatly packaged as fillets and steaks. Kristof let loose with another sigh.

“Give me a minute. You will have to post a sign that we are using a substitute for your ridiculous bargain.”

“Thank you, I—”

“Don’t thank me! This will leave us very depleted now. We can’t afford to let the inventory drop too low.”

“I don’t—”

“This weekend you will have to go harvesting with me.”