Louisiana Muck

Vignette 2

Louisiana muck cakes the bottom of Lewis’s boots. They squelch against the white linoleum floor. A small herd of flies follows him. John hears him before he sees him. “Alright, no, nope, that’s it! I’ve ‘bout had it to here,” he gestures a flat hand on the level of his bushy wolf eyebrows, “Cleason just mopped an it ain’t a small job neither.” Now John stands in front of Lewis, blocking his path through the narrow grocery aisle. “You just go on and head back outta here. We don’t want you here, understand. You’re muckin’ up my floors!” Lewis looks around in a dull sweeping gaze. Wonderbread and multigrain flank him on either side. He lumbers a full 180° turn and begins squelching a trail back out of the Quik-Mart. John walks short steps after him, fussing and agonizing over every muddy print. “Like a goddamn moose, you are, Lew…”

The flies harmonize with the flickering fluorescent lights. Just as the door is about to shriek it’s way automatically closed behind Lewis, John does what he always does. “Now just… just wait a minute, Lewis.”

Lewis pauses, and the door cries out as it pinches him between its automatic jaws. The teeth of the door retract with raspy groans and Lewis begins rotating 180° in the way a black and white movie monster would. John raises one eyebrow and glares at Lewis over his thin wireless bifocals. His eyes dart down to the size 18 boot prints on his floor, then back up to the slack jaw face of Lewis.

John stares a few moments longer, being reminded of fish, then says the same words he says every Tuesday night. “Aw, hell…” then he motions rapidly with pinwheeling hands, telling Lewis to get a move on and get what he needs. John watches Lewis amble down the snack aisle to the coolers at the end. John tsks and storms back to the register to await his only regular customer. He mutters the entire time Lewis roams the store. “Damn floors are already ruined anyhow…”