Keys to My Heart

A lady comes into the store one afternoon and has in tow three children. She meanders to the new releases while setting the offspring free to spread woe all across the Dominion. One of them, in particular, takes it upon himself to screech and run like a peyote-addict howler monkey. Fernando sighs and closes his eyes and prays for it all to end.

The child begins shrieking even more loudly and Fernando hears a whup-skrah, the sound of something whipping through the air and then scraping against wood or plaster. He emerges from his lair in a great tsunami of righteous ire and checks out what exactly transpires in his store. The mother chooses this moment to take a renewed interest in her brood and hurries to block Fernando's path, but he can still see the thing which transpires.

The shrieking child gibbers and points beneath the racks which house his sci-fi and fantasy movies. The mother shouts, “What's going on!” but the kid just hops skyward, turns, and runs further down the aisle. The other two children, not having failed their Wisdom checks, huddle close to Mom.

“Where are my keys?” she demands of her less-scurrilous kids. One of them points in the direction of the racks.

Fernando strides past the woman and peers into the dark chasms from which no explorer returns unscarred. A lanyard keychain is slung over one of the crossbars, just out of easy reach.

Fernando puffs a short sigh. “Hang on, I'll get a broom.” He retrieves the item from his back room, maneuvers it awkwardly, and at last hooks the lanyard. He lifts it up and out of the fell pit, depositing it in the woman's hands.

The woman has the good sense to look somewhat abashed. “Thanks. I'm so sorry.”

“My only question is, why would you give him your keys.”

“He likes to play with them.”

“I can see that.”

And lawn darts are the recreational items banned because they were supposedly unsafe for kids?