The End of Vandalism Read Online Free PDF Page B

walked out the windows,” said Louise.
     
    Meanwhile, a commotion had developed at the head of the line. The father picked up his daughter, and Mary and Louise stepped away from everyone to see. A customer wearing a red letter-jacket that said “Geoff Lollard School of Self-Defense” in white flannel letters was shouting at the man behind the counter. The customer was a big guy with a butch haircut and kept smacking the counter with his hand. The counterman was young and heavy, with a green apron, and a fearful smile plastered on his face.
    “You’re in a world of trouble, you smiling son of a bitch,” said the customer. “I know where you live! I know whenclosing time is! I know where you work! You work here! Stop smiling, god damn it! I’ll cut you. So help me I will.”
    “Oh, Pete,” said the counterman. He had a hollow, sad, sing-song voice that seemed to rasp a nerve in the man in the red self-defense jacket. “Oh, now, Pete, settle down.”
    Pete kept cursing the counterman. He seized a gleaming napkin dispenser and began stalking him down the length of the counter.
    “You don’t want to do this, Pete,” said the counterman, and Pete threw the dispenser viciously. The counterman dived and the dispenser knocked a deep-fat-fryer basket off its peg on the back wall.
    The counterman got up. “Well, great, Pete, you cracked it,” he said. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, because you really have cracked it.”
    But Pete had already left the counter, and now he stormed past the line of customers, tilting his head, swearing at the sky. His features were delicately arranged in the center of his big face, and he had a Band-Aid above one eye. As he passed Louise and Mary, he veered close, and his boot struck the butt of Mary’s walking stick. The stick was pulled from Mary’s hand, and as she stepped backward into the blue-eyed father and daughter, Pete and the stick seemed to wrestle briefly before falling over on the asphalt. It was apparent that Pete had scraped the heels of his hands, and the people in the line gasped and touched the heels of their own hands protectively. Pete scrambled to his feet and began to run, as if the stick were after him. He made it to an orange Volkswagen bus that was parked under a herbicide billboard, and he got in and drove away.
    “Do you want help?” the man with blue eyes asked Mary. His voice was constricted by his daughter’s arms around hisneck. “I guess he tried to steal some candy. My understanding is, he put a roll of candy in his pocket.”
    “Him and the other guy must know each other,” said Louise.
    “Oh, yeah!” said the man. “I’m sure they go way back. I guess this Pete guy thought the other one would just play dumb while he made off with the candy.”
    Mary took out her barrettes, brushed her hair, and put the barrettes back. “So you think the guy in the red,” she said, gesturing at the herbicide sign, “knew the cook beforehand?”
    Louise took her cigarette case, unsnapped it, and bent to light a cigarette. “He just said he did, Ma,” she said.
    “Oh, yeah!” said the man. “No question but what they know each other. Ease up, honey. You’re strangling Dad. I would definitely call 911 if I was that guy. I don’t know why he isn’t calling them right now. I would be. You bet I would.”
    “You know what, though,” said Mary. “I’ll bet that guy got away with the candy anyway.”
    The man nodded. “Pete did,” he said.
    “Well, wait,” said Mary. “Pete, or the one in the red coat?”
    “Pete is the one in the red coat,” said the man.
    “Pete got in the van,” said Louise.
    The man nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Pete got in the van.”
    “Be quiet about Pete!” said the little girl. She touched a hand to her forehead. “I’m sick.”
    “You’re fine,” said the father.
    “Put a Band-Aid on my eye,” said the girl.
    Louise and Mary ordered the California hamburgers, and French fries, and mugs of