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     $$     .d""b. .d""b.                  HOE E'ZINE #1096
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     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$ss$$                "Save A Lot, Roland"
     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$                        by Trilobyte
     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$  $$                      06/16/00
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     $$  $$ "TssT" "TssT"

        an old man named roland sold his soul to once more enjoy the cold
 warm embrace of a forlorn young maiden.  this one was named bernice.

        "my milk is not yet ripe," bernice cried to herself, with tears on
 her cheeks.

        "that is fine," roland replied, "i can go to the supermarket to get
 some two percent."

        and he went in his dodge durango to the local Sav-A-Lot.  he found
 two percent milk, a jug of it, and some croutons, and took them to the
 checkout aisle, where an old woman with graying hair awaited him.

        "cash check or credit," she inquired, as roland pulled out his worn
 leather wallet.

        "cash," he replied.

        the transaction went without a hitch.  the bagboy, a teenager with
 body piercings and no intelligence, delicately placed roland's milk jug
 into a plastic bag without asking a preference.  it didn't matter.  

        roland took hold of the bag and left the checkout aisle.  sauntering
 toward the automatic door he tripped on some loose celery and dropped the
 milk, which exploded all over the floor.

        "damn my clumsiness," thought roland.  leaving the mess of milk
 there for someone to clean up, he took his croutons out to his dodge
 durango and greeted a cigarette.

        "how many years has it been since you were born?" the cigarette
 asked him.
        "something near 50," roland replied.
        "you've got no excuse to still be making mistakes, roland."
        roland sighed.
        "just get a trailer and toupee and call it quits, roland."
        roland scratched his chin.
        "you just wasted a good two dollars back there, clumsy."
        roland looked at the sky.
        "your girl isn't going to be happy, roland."

        roland threw the cigarette at the ground, put it out with his foot,
 and hopped into his truck.

        the ride home was a lot of silence and street lights.  bernice was
 still crying when roland walked in the door.

        "i'm sorry, bernice, i didn't get the milk," roland told her.  he
 walked over to her, seated in her favorite chair, and put his hand on her
 shoulder.  a zap of static electricity shocked him.

        "what... why?" she asked between sobs.

        "i'm just a clumsy old fool," he sighed.  bernice sighed too.
 croutons are never enough.

        roland collapsed sitting onto the hardwood floor and cupped his face
 in his hands as his eyes rolled back into his head.  silence.  nobody
 cried, nobody spoke.  the dog, an australian terrier, barked.  a ghost
 entered the room unnoticed.  particles of dust floated around.  

        roland stood up and went into the kitchen where he dunked his head
 in the sink.  there was no water.  he went to the refrigerator but decided
 not to open it so he stood looking at the back door.

        "AAAAEHHHHHHHHH," bernice shrieked.  with a clunk, she fell from her
 chair.

        roland rushed back to where bernice had been sitting and discovered
 her body sprawled out dead on the floor.  he lit up another monotonous
 cigarette.

        "you shouldn't have been so hasty with your decisions, roland."
        "i guess not."
        "it's time to move on, roland."
        "i guess so."
        "first off you need to stop listening to me, roland."
        "okay."

 *the end*

        [note from author: any reference to supernatural happenings,
 backwoods mentality, or premature death in the above text are not meant
 to condone tobacco smoking or spirituality]
 
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 [ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu       #1096, BY TRILOBYTE - 6/16/00 ]