He felt kind of bad for Pastor Jerry and his wife, Jasmine. They were good people. Joe made a second mental note to increase his giving a little. Every bit helped.

The thought of Jerry’s financial situation reminded him of something. He remembered that his pastor had recently submitted a novel he had written and was waiting for a response from several publishing houses. The book was a satirical story of a world where people actually tolerated the cruelty and thoughtlessness of others. If accepted, his family’s financial worries would be over.

Using his most enthusiastic voice, Joe asked, “Have you received any responses from the publishing companies that you’ve submitted your book to?”

“They all turned me down,” the pastor said forlornly as he scanned the land mine’s UPC symbol into the register. “They commented that the names of all my characters started with the same letter.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Joe commented as little Johnny placed his hand grenade and the heart-shaped box with its pink bow on the counter. “Why would that make any difference?”

Jerry took Joe’s coupon clipping from the newspaper and made the appropriate adjustment. “They said that there wasn’t an editor in the world who would accept a story like that. It had something to do with readers getting the characters mixed up.”

“Well, that’s just about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Joe said as he took the receipt.

Jerry sighed and nodded in agreement. “Apparently, the average editor believes that the average reader isn’t intelligent enough to figure out that kind of thing on their own.”

Obviously uncomfortable talking about it, Jerry abruptly changed the subject. “Your purchase exceeds $75.00. Would you prefer the dozen roses or the bullets?”

Being well supplied with shells, Joe decided on the dozen roses and sat them on the land mine which Jerry had carefully placed inside the heart-shaped container. Little Johnny smiled brightly as Pastor Jerry handed him the packages in a brown, paper bag. The boy thanked him gleefully, a twinkle in his eyes.

Joe turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw a city policeman approaching the counter. The black uniformed officer gave Pastor Jerry a friendly wave and mentioned that they were running low on poison gas and hand gun ammunition at the station.

Jerry wore his usual smile. “What caliber are you looking for?”

“I need a couple of boxes for our standard issue .38. We could use some .357 ammo also.”

“It’s on aisle 12, next to the John Wayne Gracy edition collector guns. And don’t forget, the usual Police Department discount still applies to your purchase.”

“Thanks,” officer Jackson said as he walked off with a military stride.

Joe finished wrapping Jane’s gift and grabbed little Johnny’s hand. He waved goodbye to Jerry who thanked them for their patronage. Joe escorted his son out of the store. They climbed into their mini-van, buckled up and drove away from the store.

Heading home, Joe remembered that a friend of his was experiencing problems with his mother-in-law. She was a nasty old biddy according to accounts from several sources. When Joe saw him next, he knew just what he’d do.

He’d recommend a trip to the friendly, neighborhood store of Blood Bath & Beyond.

THE END