Shopping Spree

[Daveparts]

Shopping Spree
By David Glenn Cox




Preface: In 1932 in Lawrence Kansas 200 hungry farmers converged on the local Red Cross headquarters. Some complaining that they’d hadn’t had any food in three days then advised local officials that if relief supplies weren’t released to them by five o’clock that they would take them by force if necessary. In Detroit it was estimated that one person died of starvation every seven hours.

So do not read this as a prognostication or as Nostradamus staring into a bowel of water. This is only a rewriting of the things, which lurk in our repressed memories When American exceptionalism wasn’t so exceptional.


The crowds were huddled together against the cold as the winds blew briskly. Their numbers were growing. I, Officer Larry Phillips, walked through the parking lot, trying to make myself almost invisible. I reported back to Captain Walker, “The numbers are growing, Sir, they’re not going to stand out here in the cold like this all day.”

“I know that, Larry,” he answered, understanding. “We’re stuck here. I’m trying to get us more help but that takes time, and meanwhile the crowd just gets larger.”

“Couldn’t you get them to open up, Captain, and just let a few people in?”

“They’re scared shitless, Larry, they won’t open that door until they feel safe. If they lose control of that door, tomorrow they’ll be out on their ass and become part of this crowd themselves.”

“Captain, how about we get the people to show us their money and we’ll. . .”

“Forget it, Larry. It would be like waving a red flag in front of the bulls. Would all those who would like to become targets please form a line.”

As we discussed their predicament another officer in a squad car approached. “Captain, dispatch says that no help is available right now. They’re maxed out and it may be an hour or two before they can send us more than a couple of men.”

The Captain grimaced and mumbled, “Shit,” under his breath. “Phillips, cover me as I go to the door.”

I pulled my taser and walked backwards, watching out to prevent the crowd from surging forward. As the Captain reached the door of the storefront he pounded on the door. “You in there! Get the manager up here, now!”

An older woman in a cashier's smock, looking pale and frightened, answered with a nod. The crowd noise was building with anticipation at seeing the cops by the front door.

“Larry!” the captain yelled. “Say something to them! Try to calm them down!”

Facing the crowd and raising my hands, I yelled, “Folks, calm down, they’ll open up soon enough.”

The voices in the crowd yelled back in all tones, from plaintive pleadings to angry recriminations. “Why ain’t they open now?”

“Try and remain calm,” I pleaded. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. They’re not going to open unless their safety can be guaranteed.”

“What if you can’t guarantee their safety? Are we expected to just stand here and freeze? You think that we’re all going to do that, cop?”

Three generations, a daughter, mother, and grandmother took turns sitting on their small wagon saying, “They’ve got to open soon, they’ve just got to!”

With a swirl of wind through the parking lot, large gray clouds blocked out the sun as it began to snow. I could hear a low rumble coming from the crowd as the snow became progressively heavier. Not the soft, fluffy snow I remembered from my childhood but a hard icy snow that bounced off shoulders and could be heard when it struck your ears.

The Captain banged on the door again. “Where the hell is he at?”

I looked over my shoulder. “Is he coming, Captain?”

“I don’t know, they might have locked themselves in the office.”

“What do we do then, Captain?”

“I’ll tell you what we don’t do, we don’t stand here and get torn to shreds when this crowd figures out that the store isn’t going to open.”

“We bail, Captain?”

“Damn Skippy we do! I’ll try and help them if we can, but if they think that we’re going to stand out here and get beat to death while they hide under their desks, they’re crazy.”

A man with a gaunt face approached the door as the Captain yelled to him, “Let me in.”

He answered resolutely, “I can’t, I’m only the assistant manager. We can’t find the manager. The home office told us not to open without him.”

“Look,” The Captian said, “like I was telling my officer, we’ll work to help you here but we aren’t going to get the shit kicked out of us to protect a closed store. You get on the phone to the home office and tell them to get you some private security people over here or in a few more hours you might lose the whole shebang!”

He answered meekly, “I’ll try.”

The captain barked back, “Don’t try, do!”

He returned to me. “Larry, I hate to ask but can you make another patrol of the crowd?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Captain,” I answered as I shuffled off through the crowd.

The assistant manager returned to the door and not finding the captain there began to look out the front windows, trying to locate him.

When the crowds saw him in the window the air became electric. “Open now! Open now!” they chanted.

The Captain ran to the door and I made my way back through the crowd as well.

As the Captain's eyes met the assistant manager's, the manager began shaking his head no. “No deal, boss man, they won’t hire any security. They don’t want to spend the money, and besides, they say that there are no men to be had.”

The Captain backed away from the door without a word; his lips were tight, his ears burning from the cold, the snow, and his repressed rage.

When I returned I could read the answer on the Captain's face. “Captain, some of those men on the edge of the parking lot are making speeches, you know the type, nationalist rabble rousers.”

“We can’t worry about that now, Larry; we need to plan our escape. Once we start to move out this crowd will explode.”

Off in the distance we could hear a ringing sound, and car horns blowing. “What do you suppose that is, Captain?"

"Oh shit, Larry, get the keys ready for the squad car and be ready to move when I tell you.”

The sound was drawing closer and as the parade turned the corner its sound was multiplied. The men in the parking lot reacted violently at the sight of them. But their anger was of little use against the well-armed mob which was led by a color guard with American flags, and then standard bearers holding up their banner. Then men on a flat-bed truck. It was fists against baseball bats and clubs. The scuffle only lasted a few moments when the men on the back of the flat-bed truck drew down on them with shotguns.

As the truck pulled the into the parking lot the crowd separated and it stopped in front of the store. A well-dressed man in a leather jacket climbed out of the cab. He confidently motioned to the police to come to the side of the flat-bed. “Officers,” he said, “I’m glad you’re here. We’ll need your help.”

“What do you need from us?” the Captain asked him.

“We’re feeding these people today and we need you to help us maintain order.”

“By whose authority are you feeding these people Mr…?”

“Mr. Jacobson, officer. My name is William Jacobson and I’ve been appointed to the Local Peoples' Assembly for Food Relief by the CLA. In about ten minutes this store is going to open and the people will be allowed in, five at a time, and they will be allowed $200 dollars worth of food each.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Jacobson, most of these people don’t have five dollars, let alone two hundred.”

“It will be billed to the Peoples Committee for Food Relief, officer,” Jacobson answered.

“It’s Captain, Mr. Jacobson, and do you really expect me and my men to help you loot a Kroger store?”

“Captain, I won’t bandy words and definitions with you, this is going to happen. Do you want it to happen in an orderly fashion or a disorderly fashion?”

“Mr. Jacobson, need I remind you that we are the law around here?”

Jacobson answered, “No, no you’re not, not anymore. You’re a guy with a gun and a badge and I’ve got twenty guns and twenty badges, If we have to shoot you down it will only make us look better in the eyes of the people. The people will see that we will stop at nothing to feed them! Your bodies will make exclamation points on the new way over the old. Stand by for further orders, Captain.”

Jacobson then climbed up, with some help, to the back of the truck and began speaking into a bullhorn. “I’ve come from the Communist League of America. I’m with the Peoples Assembly for Food Relief. We are going to open this store in a few minutes and you are all going to be fed. Ideologies be damned, Democracy has failed you and Capitalism has robbed you of a decent living. Only the CLA has come to feed you.”

A voice from the crowd shouted, “Then shut up and feed us already!”

“Very soon, friend,” Jacobson replied. "But first you must know who it is that is doing these things on your behalf.”

The crowd had swarmed around the truck as the men from the parking lot had regrouped and had begun moving forward toward the store. Using a trash barrel they smashed the first large front window as the crowd cheered. Pandemonium erupted as the crowd rushed to climb through the open window.

Then another shattered, and another. Jacobson nodded to the men with the shotguns and they loaded a round into their chambers.

The captain yelled to me, “Hit him, Phillips!”

The taser darts hit Jacobson in the chest, I saw him go down convulsing as the first shotgun blast went off. They were firing at the people looting the store so the Captain unloaded his service revolver into the crowd of men with the shotguns. I saw the Captain go down and I returned fire, killing the man who fired at him. Then I got underneath the truck and tried to tend to Captain Walker but it was clear that he was dead. I ran to the squad car but by that time all of the windows were broken out. I managed to get the car started and came directly here, Sir.

“You did your best, Phillips. Write up your report and put it on the pile with all the others.”

“Yes sir,” I answered, then I clocked out.