Moptop followed Nole to the checkout of the grocery store and began unloading their items without paying much attention to what he was doing. However, he was somewhat startled when he realized that he had placed several bags of green plastic army men on the belt. "Hey, these are like the ones I had when I was a kid," he thought. "The ones that got stolen!" Indeed, it became apparent that they were the very same ones. Moptop was quite pleased.
"Oh, I forgot a cart," Nole said to Moptop. "It's over in the produce section. Go grab it for me."
Moptop soon found the cart and began to return it, but he found that it had been commandeered by an elderly woman and a young girl, who appeared to be her granddaughter.
"Excuse me," Moptop said. "I left some things in this cart."
"It's ours now!" the girl exclaimed.
Moptop glared at both of them and left the store.
When Moptop returned to the parking lot, he found the girl alone with the cart, which was now full of fruit.
"What happened to your grandmother?" asked Moptop.
"I need to get up there," the girl replied, pointing to a house near the top of a distant hill. The house was completely dark, surrounded by a thick forest, and its silhouette was only visible courtesy of the full and intensely bright moon.
"Well, you shouldn't be going alone at this time of night. Here, I'll. . . ."
When he turned to face the girl, she had disappeared. With an exasperated sigh, Moptop began to push the cart.
The only viable path to the house led to a steep, dangerous ridge, which was covered with fallen trees and thorn-filled bushes. Attempting to navigate a shopping cart through such terrain was completely unreasonable, but Moptop continued, though much of the fruit was falling out. He watched as a pineapple and bunch of grapes tumbled down the treacherous ridge and suddenly became extremely frightened. The moon's glow seemed to intensify, highlighting the many dangers of the ridge.
Moptop finally arrived at the house and knocked on the front door. He could somewhat see through the curtains that it was nicely-furnished and comfortable inside, lit by a fireplace. A stern, yet distinguished-looking man opened the door.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
"Excuse me, sir. Do you have a wife or granddaughter living here?"
The man scowled and slammed the door shut.
"Wait!" shouted Moptop, who was still out of breath from the climb. "I have the fruit!"
The man cracked the door open again, looked at Moptop and the cart, and then beckoned for him to enter.
The old woman and young girl were inside, as well as another man sitting on a couch. There was music playing in the background, and the man on the couch was pushing the buttons on a phone, each tone somewhat correlating to the melody of the song. It was very irritating.
"Sorry, sir. Most of the fruit fell out, but I had to climb up that ridge."
"No matter," said the man. "I thank you." The girl and grandmother smiled. "What is your name?"
"Moptop."
"I am Carl." With this, the man leaned close to Moptop, placing his hands near Moptop's mouth. The man suddenly heaved, gagging as though he had swallowed a great amount of blood.
"I know what happened to you!" the man gasped.
Moptop was shocked, but he felt all the pain from his body seem to melt away.
"I'm so sorry, my boy," Carl whispered. "I'll take it. Go and live your life."
Somewhat shaken, Moptop staggered out the door and returned to his car. He searched for a pen and paper to write down what had happened, but couldn't find any. He pulled into a store to quickly purchase writing materials before he forgot any of the details of the night's events.
He found a pen and a small memo pad, and, as he stood in the checkout line, feverishly scribbled down notes. The woman at the register was trying to sell the woman in front of Moptop on the store's exclusive club. "If you become a member, you'll receive this free gift," she droned, holding up a frilly paper heart.
Moptop continued writing, but looked up when he realized the checker had stopped talking. She was reading Moptop's notes: "supermarket . . . army men . . . girl . . . Carl, older African-American gent . . . strange power. . . ."
The woman stared blankly at Moptop.
"What?" he said, with contempt. "Did you know this pen costs seven dollars? That's ridiculous. You should be ashamed."
