[OC] I Know What Kills Monsters, by me

I Know What Kills Monsters

(Based on a true story)

It was hot—the kind of miserable day
That makes you wish you'd bought solar stocks right away.
Okay, maybe the heat hadn't gone quite that far,
But close enough when you're walking out to the car.

I'd finished a project, and just like before,
I'd bought enough Fix-It supplies to build four more
So Marilyn looked at the extras I'd grown
And sent me to Lowe's to return what we owned.

I walked through the doors to the returns by the wall,
And technically speaking, there wasn't a line at all.
One man at the counter, then several steps back—me.
A beautiful system of efficiency.

Except for one thing.

The young man at the till
Had somehow perfected the art of standing still.
Whatever that customer needed returned,
Civilizations could rise and fall before we learned.

So I waited.

And watched.

That's what I tend to do.
Not just one person—the whole world in view.

That's when a gentleman came through the door,
Looking like he'd had enough of today and then some more.

The heat was still clinging all over his clothes,
His hair matted down from his head to his nose.
His uniform carried a long working day,
And his face said he's got nothing more left to give away.

He paced near the entrance.

Back and then forth.

Looking for something.

Not knowing of course.

And something about him made one thing quite clear:

Pay a little attention to this gentleman here.

He finally stopped just behind where I stood,
And called toward the counter as loudly as he could:

“Where's the return line?”

The employee replied.

And whatever he said...

Something changed in the guy.

It wasn't obscene.

It wasn't a threat.

It was simply uncaring—and that's sometimes the worse bet.

Because when someone's exhausted and cooked by the sun,
Dismissal can light what the heat has begun.

My tired friend then vanished.

Right there where he stood.

And something replaced him that wasn't feeling good.

His shoulders went rigid.

His face rearranged.

His energy sharpened.

The whole man changed.

A monster stood there now, ready to fight,
And that Lowe's employee was about to learn right
Then and there that perhaps when a customer calls,
A little more kindness costs nothing at all.

Well, hell.

This was really going to screw up my day.

I had stuff to return and wanted to get away.

Back home to Marilyn—that's where I should be,
Not ringside at Lowe's for Round One through Round Three.

So I turned toward the monster and quietly said,

“It's loud in here. Maybe he didn't hear what you said.”

The monster looked back.

And I knew from his stare
He wasn't quite finished.

The fight was still there.

He wanted some resistance.

Something to shove.

Another hard answer.

And he'd deliver the glove.

Anger does that when you've let it run free—
It searches the room for any enemy.

And now he had me.

Or so he believed.

But monsters are funny when they're not well received.

Because I know something about monsters, you see:

Sometimes what kills them is a simple courtesy.

“You look like you're in more of a hurry than me.
Why don't you take my spot? You'll be next—and then you'll be free.”

And there it was.

Nothing to fight.

No insult returned.

Nothing challenged.

No slight.

The monster came ready to push and to shove,
And instead ran headfirst into something like love.

Not grandiose love.

Let's not get carried away.

Just one stranger giving another his place for the day.

But his face changed first.

Then his shoulders came down.

The anger went searching.

And nothing it found.

It had come for a battle.

I'd offered to care.

And suddenly anger had nothing left to do there.

Then the monster was gone.

And the man reappeared.

The same tired fellow who'd first entered here.

He smiled.

Put his hand on my shoulder.

And thanked me instead.

Then politely declined with a shake of his head.

“It's okay,” he told me, his temper now tossed.

“My time's on the boss's budget.”

Well played, boss.

About then my marathon waiting was through,
And finally I had my own returning to do.

Receipt was ready.

Items were ready.

Everything just right.

I wasn't spending another damn minute tonight.

My return took seconds.

I turned toward the door.

Then I glanced at the gentleman once more.

He looked back at me.

Nothing needed be said.

Just one little nod from each man's head.

No sermon.

No hero.

No grand curtain call.

Most people there probably noticed nothing at all.

Just two tired strangers on one scorching day,
Who crossed paths for a moment, then went on their way.

I walked through the doors, back into the sun.

My return was complete.

My errand was done.

And somewhere behind me, with nothing to mend,
A monster had died—

and a man stood again.