One Day at the Island Belle Market

Twelve-year-old Ockie Larsen knew every inch of the candy and snack shelves inside the Island Belle Market—not to mention the open-top cooler with bottles of Fizzola, Bubsawizzle, and Frosty Frizzy Dewdrop nestled in the clear, icy water. If Ockie was flushed with shekels, then it was Katy Bar the Door for any of the aforementioned beverages, and for hard-to-find items like Kuzzle Loops, Melo-Mutts, Shim-a-Ree Pops, and Squiffy Bars, which after the bill was settled, he consumed posthaste, usually while sitting on the old wood bench outside the market.

The problem was that Ockie wasn’t flushed with shekels on this fateful day. His pockets were empty, and the Island Belle Market proprietor, Kirby Hopper, was a cash-on-the-barrelhead sort who demanded payment up front for the enticing comestibles Ockie lusted after. Nevertheless, the temptation for the tasty treats proved to be more than Ockie could bear, and he made up his mind to come away with the objects of his desire by hook or by crook.

As Ockie stood gazing at the neat rows of toothsome delectables and Kirby busied himself with dusting a shelf of canned goods, the market door swung open, tinkling the little bell above the jamb, and Jimmy Lukash, village thug and ne’er-do-well, sauntered in. Jimmy, a frequent guest of the town hoosegow, had recently been released and looked dollars-to-doughnuts like he was up to no good. “Be with you in two shakes, Jimmy,” Kirby said in his homespun, friendly manner, putting the feather duster on a hook behind the counter. Jimmy snarled, “Shake the shit outta yer diaper, Pops. I ain’t got all day!”

While Kirby was distracted by Jimmy Lukash, Ockie surreptitiously stuffed a Squiffy Bar into his jacket pocket and reached into the cooler, snagging a bottle of Fizzola. Jimmy approached the counter with a sharpened ice pick in one hand and yelled for Kirby to “Open the till now and empty it, you old asswipe!” Ockie, who was kneeling behind the beverage cooler by this time, then saw Jimmy raise the ice pick toward Kirby in a threatening manner, and he sprang out from his hiding place, swinging the full, ice-cold bottle of Fizzola at Jimmy, clocking him full flush on the right ear. Jimmy howled and, not realizing he was still holding the ice pick in his right hand, brought it up quickly to his ear and plunged the sharpened implement in deeply.

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After Kirby and Ockie had given their statements to the local constabulary, Jimmy was trundled off to the county morgue by Classy Lassiter, a local EMT and, coincidentally, Kirby’s longtime fiancé. The two sat together on the old wooden bench, and Ockie fessed up about attempting to shoplift the irresistible items. “Thanks for telling me, son. You earned 'em, so there’s no charge today… just this once.” Then, to no one in particular, Kirby hollered, “Clean up on aisle one!”