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Now available for preorder:
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I   H A D   T H I S
W H E N   I
C A M E   I N   H E R E.


BY JEFF JOHNSON


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I had this when I came in here. I did. Lookit. I had this the whole time. It's mine. I wouldn't have bought it here. I wouldn't have had to.

Why are you taking me down here? I'm not supposed to even be here. I'm not. My family is in the chicken business. We have farms. We've provided chickens to millions of people. We're wealthy. If you've enjoyed the green bean, almond and chicken dinner with Dutch apple crumble — that's my family. I'm an heir. I don't take. I had this.

I'm not starting anything. It was the heat. I came indoors for some shade. I could have just stood in the foyer. But the heat. Being caught with no ventilation between two glass doors is not refreshing in any way, shape, or form. Plus, all of your patrons. I would've been in their way. In this humid glass tomb. These chicken dinners my family has lovingly provided for decades, we've made them affordable, so even poor people, if they have a couple dollars and an oven, or reliable source of heat, they can enjoy them.

I walked in. I was simply browsing. You must believe me. Most of what you provide are just staples. Bland things. I'm used to the finer things. I demand a, no offense, a higher-quality good and service. Your service is good. I think I like that one girl. The one in the smock. I know you all wear smocks, but I like her. I just needed shade, because of the weather. This heat. This heat could cripple fruit in minutes. It could turn a healthy peach into soup.

Don't get me wrong. I like what you all do. This store is nice. Your woman at the register is sweet. The one in the smock. I've seen her. I just… I normally have plenty of money on hand. I'm not a shoplifter. I had this when I came in. I'm telling you.

My mother taught us well. We'd never steal, or even lie. I remember going to the pool on days like today. My mother would teach us manners. Make sure we practiced courtesy. I could talk about forks and table settings. I could do this until at least 3:45. That's how much I know. Hours of place settings. I know how to use a pill fork. I bet you've never even seen one of those. My family crest is on this chicken package. It's probably in your freezer with a layer of frost on it. It's royal blue.

Lookit. My driver was at the deli. Pitt's. Our limousine is double-parked. I got out. I was bored, I suppose. I do this. I walked away from the vehicle. I left his town car idling. Police on horses were looking after it. I wanted to visit these shops. Communicate with the girl in the smock, perhaps. This heat is something else.

My driver is getting lemonade crystals at Pitt's. I gave him a twenty-dollar bill. Heaven knows lemonade crystals don't go for twenty dollars. Not now or ever. I could make lemonade for all of your customers from now until Halloween on twenty dollars. I don't know why I didn't bring my billfold in here.

I'm a student. I'm only here because my mother wanted to see me. Normally I am away at school for nine months a stretch. I'm out in Spokane, Washington. Our chicken plane takes me. We've a chartered jet aeroplane. My father uses it. It's a 7,100 dollar trip when it is all said and done. He doesn't want me on the commercial flights.

I'm studying law. So, just so you know, I wouldn't be doing this. I'm not sure what it looked like to you, but I had this when I came in here.

I'd take a glass of tap water if I had to sit here any longer. Do you suppose I will sit here much longer? A criminal, I believe, would get sent to the local jail. If you want to continue this, then you really should just phone the police. Not that I want you to, just I don't know about this room. I don't know what I'd do in jail either. My family slaughters chickens.

I can't believe you'd keep your files like this. Those drawers don't close even. I respect how busy you are, but still. It's damp down here. It's just well, it's not so pleasant. It's moist. Adult men, moisture wrecks them. Moisture collects in every fold. I had this when I came in here.

Many buildings are full of spores now. Mold is the last thing to protect against. No one cares. It's slow. My driver is going to have these crystals. We're expected to bring them back home and get to the business of brewing this lemonade. We're making lemonade for the family. My driver won't touch the crystals. We had a big glass pitcher when I was young. I filled it with mud and frogs one day. I don't do that anymore.

I'm innocent. My driver is going to be outside. He'll think I've been abducted. We had a small picnic in Spokane before I left. A bonfire. A roast. A "Bye-Bye" party. It was a sad little pig. Don't know where they got it. It looked like a fat orange raisin. It was on a spit. It had a bolt through its nose. Someone threw cubed cheese at it.

The women ignored it and me, and danced around the volleyball net. This heat is killing me. Can't you just let me go? My cousin Travis was punched in the nose by a friend. Not on purpose. The friend thought Travis was from a rival school. It was near the fire. Just for an instant. That's all it took.

That's like this situation, don't you think? You saw something wrong. But I had this when I came in here. There's no receipt, 'cause it's old. It's like an old friend to me. Can't you see that you would never sell this here?

I just couldn't help but wonder why a pig should die and have a bolt through its nose for a picnic. A lackluster picnic. That wasn't ushering in good times. It was because I was flunking out if you must know. And these people in Spokane were sending me off. See I am back here for the summer to do good things. I'm not a thief. I'm home now for good purposes, not for theft.

 

 

OTHER McSWEENEY'S STORIES:
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Pun About Death Goes Here for Title: An Interview with Jim Keller, Groundskeeper at the Marysville Cemetery By Dan Kennedy
Unpublished Coda to Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird By Tim Carvell
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Please Remember to Suck Off His Finger with a High-Powered Vacuum, Part One By Kevin Feeney
Engulfed: A Dispatch from the Front By Zev Borow and Stephen Sherrill

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