K-Mart Revisited

“K” is for King. “K” is for kind. I may have trouble validating my claims but I believe that Walmart was directly related to the new Chinese Stealth Fighter photographed last week. This news heard, when my roommates started talking kitchen supplies and Wally’s I noticed opportunity’s kick in the shins and made the leap. I threw the Wall Street paper down on the table, the pictures of the stealth fighter flagrantly obvious on the front page and said- “This is what your spent dollars will get you!”

Chit-chat and hullabaloo followed.

I rallied them around and Parker was quick to voice his concordant opinions that we should “revisit K-Mart.”

*         *          *

The aisles were wide and leisurely. Spacious. The shelves well stocked and the workers jubilant. Inside these walls we learned the true meaning of customer service- customers serving customers.

We divode and conquered. I retrieved my desired soap- King’s-Mart brand dove replacement for 4 dollars cheaper and bigger bars- and rendezvoused with Parker on the sponge and dish cleaning aisle. (A man wearing a top hat just walked down the hall).

Parker was involved with a silver haired woman of charming appearance, of happy eyes and caring hands. She elaborated to us the different uses of each item and their hierarchy of excellency and showed us her intended purchase when Ben arrived with the Q-Tips. She recommended the micro-fiber towels and begged her pardon, departing.We got the mirco-fiber towels. Altogether it was a pleasant exchange.

We adjourned to cash register, wherest in giving greetings to the cashier man, our relationship with the elderly woman was resurrected like a freshly dead phoenix.

“I didn’t want to lead you boys astray,” she us informed, “but I feared you hadn’t gotten one of these.”

She held up a blue-green-scratcher-sponge in the light. We indeed we hadn’t gotten one of these, all present being witness.

She gently pressed it into our hands, saying, “I’ve had boys, I know what its like.”

And she was gone.

“K is for kind,” chimed the cashier.
An aging man waited in line behind us with blank eyes.

Ben chucklewhispered, “Pay it forward.”

But with what? I asked, What have I to give?

Three micro-fiber towels came in the pack. We could do with two.

I turned, taking one of the towels in hand, and walked right up to the man and said- “Here, this is for you,” placing it in the man’s hands.

Bewildered, the man’s eyes were no longer blank. Shocked and confused, I left him, twirling my stache madly.

Finally, “Thank you!” he yelled in a withering voice encountering new sun. “Thank you,” it echoed.

There was a tear in the cashier’s man eye as the electronic doors closed behind us. You don't see that at the Other-Mart, he said.

We came back the next day.