Smashwords — Class Warfare at the Convenience Store - A book by Paul Hawkins

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Class Warfare at the Convenience Store
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By Paul Hawkins

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Class Warfare at the Convenience Store

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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The convenience store had stood for years in the middle of nowhere, at the intersection of two streets which, though they were major thoroughfares in the city, petered out here to two-lane roads, with one curving around and intersecting the other to avoid plowing headlong into a man-made WPA fake-lake that itself had been built one notch beyond the scope of interest of anything or anyone. But it held water and was connected to the city by old, old pipes that burst like clockwork every winter, and in any case, both it and the convenience store happened to simply be a place between places, happily bypassed for a more direct route by everyone but people up to no good or wanting to be left alone - well, and fishermen.

It was during a horribly mismanaged state highway "improvement" project that the city folk managed to rediscover this stretch of rural road because they found themselves redirected onto it as a detour for eight painful miles, and over the course of 18 months during which the highway was improved, fixed, tore up, pondered, and improved again, and finally passed muster (that is, the last federal dollar was spent), it became frequently trafficked by uptight alpha types and financially thrived, though the exasperated patrons were less than polite. The small shop suddenly became crowded by agitated men and women in business suits who talked too loudly into their cell phones, shaved and applied make-up while grinding their teeth and bumping into each other, growled when asked to show their ID, and generally ran down the place: