Singing the Winn/Dixie Blues and other Short Stories.

By Kenneth G Allen Jr.

A Chocolate Kiss –Off: A young teenager is hired and discovers that the older cashiers don't much like grocery-baggers because, with tips, their wages are higher. He tangles with an older cashier named Gail whose emotional, physical and spiritual well being depends on how much chocolate she's eaten that day.
My Listening Corner: A middle aged, store bookkeeper and head cashier Birdie-Lee, wages passive aggressive warfare against a young brash arrogant impulsive store manager who is short-tempered and temperamental. She finds a place in the store where she can overhear what people are saying about her in the manager's office nearby but doesn't always like what she hears.
Dancing With the Devil: Doris Ann, a young somewhat disturbed cashier visits a therapist and describes in detail her involvement in a religious cult.
Singing the Winn/Dixie Blues: A black store manager, Mr. Prichard , has to deal daily with surly employees, arrogant executives, and insane customers. He's a true tragic hero who deals with racial, moral and ethical issues.
Moon Dreamer: Is a story about a produce clerk who struggles to find meaning in a mindless job.
My Lucky Creed: A young burglar breaks into a store and gets seriously injured in a fall through the ceiling. While he lays on the backroom floor, he reflects on what happened in his life to get him to this point.
Up In Smoke: Is a fable about a man who comes into a store and passes out fifty dollars to anyone who would sell their soul to the devil. Is he really the devil? Who knows?
Need: Looks at employee theft from the point of view of a young stocking clerk who is stealing asthma inhaler medicine for his sister and gets caught.
Security Check: Two men are sitting in a security booth watching customers who shoplift on a video screen. They make running comments on what they see below. They think they are lions on the hunt, but are they?

The Electric Toque Machine: Three marines go down into Mexico on a weekend leave and play an electric shock machine in a bar that tests their manhood.

Leslie's Last Concubine: A lawyer in a large firm finds American women to be too competitive for his tastes and goes to Russia to get a girlfriend. He gets more than he bargains for and learns that his real solution to his love search is next door and not across the world.

A Teacher's Travail: A story about a burned out English teacher trying to teach a poem to some bored and uninterested students. He finds a kindred spirit.

The Drag Queen: This is a very short tongue-in-cheek tale about a guy who goes to a wedding and has an interesting reaction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667849621

Book preview

About the Author

Kenneth Allen lives in Decatur Georgia and has published eleven short stories in the literary market. His stories have appeared in: The Chattahoochee Review, Chicago Quarterly Review, Storyteller, Love’s Lost and Found, an anthology, Struggle, Long Story Short, and an honorable mention in Writers Digest story contest. He has been a guest speaker at Mercer University where he gives a short story class. Kenneth has two novels published and a third soon to be published. He was a store location manager for Winn/Dixie and worked for them for twenty years from 1970-1990. He takes the lives of ordinary working people and shows how they deal with moral and ethical issues. He has two published novels, The Golden Cockerel: A New Odyssey and Dragon Curse. Two novels set in the Ancient Roman World. A third one will be out soon called The Red Cord.

Dedication

This Story Collection is dedicated to the Associates of Winn/Dixie whose foibles and antics inspired me to write this collection.

To Ann Fisher and Susan Jones Clayton, who helped me edit all of these stories.

Short Story Collection

Part One

Got that Winn/Dixie Feeling

A Chocolate Kiss-off

Inside me,

There’s a thin woman

Trying to get out—

But, I usually shut that

Bitch up with Chocolate.

Jerry Schlietenheit’s first day of work got him into trouble with cashier Gail Harris. He thought it was his fault, but everyone had a run-in with her sooner or later. His first mistake was parking his dad’s old 1963 Ford Fairlane station wagon in her favorite parking place. He didn’t know parking places were like church pews. They were never assigned, but were taken by custom. Woe betide the person who dared take Gail’s spot—especially a car that leaked oil. She didn’t want anyone to think her brand new 1968 yellow Ford Mustang convertible leaked oil. She usually parked in the shade of the Winn- Dixie’s north side. The hot Georgia summer afternoons made any shade welcome and today she had to park up under the mimosa tree that hung over the parking lot--like a green and pink umbrella.

Are you the guy Hornsbee just hired? Gail cornered him at the time clock. Her close spaced pig eyes looked him up and down. You need to move your piece of crap car out of my parking place. I’ll bet it leaks oil too

Excuse me ma’am, but I don’t think we have been introduced, Jerry said, extending his hand, smiling. My name is Jerry, Jerry Schlietenheit.

What kind of name is Schlittenfright? Gail said. She sneered at his hand as if he had just blown his nose in it. "That sounds like a brand of cheap beer. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll move your car, now. I don’t know why Hornsbee keeps hiring these green-horn sixteen-year-olds." She turned on her heel and stomped away while Jerry watched with open mouth, his hand still extended in mid air. His pale face turned bright red matching his hair.

Jerry left the store wondering if there was a bronze plaque in front of her spot with her name engraved on it. In anger he hit the mimosa tree hard with a stick, a couple of times, and watched as it dropped a thick shower of sticky pink petals onto the roof of her white convertible top. He decided, from then on, to ride his bicycle to work.

Mr. Hornsbee rolled his eyes when Gail came into work that morning. Although he hired her, he sometimes regretted it. Good morning, Harris, he said, as he handed her a register till and tugged at his crotch. Don’t be so hard on these boys today.

Store manager Herbert Horatio Hornsbee never called any employee by their first name. It was always a nickname, or last name, without the courtesy of Mister, Mrs., or Miss. He used those titles for his customers only. A few of the older folks, or some of his high school buddies, called him Herbert, but everyone else called him Mr. Hornsbee, except the younger bag boys who called him Hornsbite—but never to his face. He called Jerry Schlitz.

Gail lifted the corner of her thin upper lip as she turned and walked away to her register station. She put the till in the drawer, cleaned her thick glasses with a tissue, fluffed her dark blonde beehive hairdo with both hands, and dropped a bag of chocolate candy kisses into the supply drawer under her station.

Beside each register was a microphone on a metal stem, that was used to summon baggers when needed. Most of the boys avoided Gail because she was unpredictable. She didn’t like them because they made tips carrying groceries out to the cars. Her hourly salary was higher, but with tips, the boys made more overall. This wasn’t fair as far as she was concerned. She expressed her displeasure by vigorously using the intercom.

One busy Saturday morning, Mr. Hornsbee got on the office microphone and said, Schlitz, come up front!

Jerry hated that name, but Mr. Hornsbee could not, or would not, learn his name so he was stuck with it. Jerry walked from the back room, rolled his eyes, and figured it was his turn to go bag groceries for Her Royal Nastiness. He said, Okay Gail, send me some frozen foods first, and then the canned goods next.

He double-bagged the frozen items and squared the brown paper bags with small boxes in the bottom, before loading it with cans. Mr. Hornsbee taught them to separate the items into categories for easy unloading at home.

Mr. Hornsbee hired Jerry because his friend Turkey McNair worked there. He figured that good workers had friends with a work ethic and values. Jerry got his job by hanging out in the evenings after closing and helping the boys mop the store. It got him in the door.

Schlitz, you’re useless, Gail said, putting her hands on her wide hips. Why does it take you forever to answer my intercom call? I swear you guys are like flies; you eat crap and bother people. She frowned and started checking another order.

Jerry moved behind the register to take groceries from the carts and set them onto the conveyer belt for check out. After a half hour he grew tired and wanted a break. As he was about to leave, Mrs. Simmons, a large, frazzled woman with red hair, brought two shopping carts full of groceries for Gail to check out. Gail quickly slipped a chocolate into her mouth and snapped at Jerry, Hey Useless, the customer is waiting.

Oh gosh, not another order to unload, Jerry said, out loud but not on purpose. Mrs. Simmon’s eyes flashed.

You know it hard enough to have to pay these outrageous prices without having to be insulted by rude bag boys. Gail, I swear, I’ve had it. I got enough groceries to feed Cox’s Army, I got to spend all my money here, go home and unload it by myself. I can’t get my lazy husband or kids to help me. I’ve been up since the butt crack of dawn and….

What’s going on here? Mr. Hornsbee said, as he walked up to give Gail some rolls of change.

Schlittenfritz has just made Mrs. Simmons mad, Gail said raising her nose slightly. Why do you hire these lazy boys?

Jerry immediately said, Mrs. Simmons, I do sincerely and abjectly beg your humble apology for thinking too loudly and do ask you to forgive my trespasses forevermore. He doffed an imaginary hat and bowed with a flourish. Gail noticed he had his backside toward her.

Mrs. Simmons’ jaw dropped for a moment at Jerry’s performance. Then she burst out laughing and could only stammer, Well, I’ll just be….

Mr. Hornsbee gave Jerry a warning look, shook his head, and walked away.

After Mrs. Simmons left, Gail sneered at Jerry and said, that was some act you put on Schlitzfritz. I could see right through that. By the way, if you knew Jesus Christ as your personal savior you wouldn’t talk like that.

Jerry left the store pushing a buggy for Mr. Thomas the banker, and muttering under his breath, said, Jeeze, I hate that old gal. Did you hear what she just said to me?

Take this and try to stay out of her way, Mr. Thomas said, handing Jerry a quarter tip. You can’t please all the people all the time.

A quarter was the usual tip. Sometimes it was accompanied by advice such as: Get yourself a hamburger, or, be sure you give to the church on Sunday, or, sometimes, get yourself some breath mints. The richer people, Jerry observed, gave only a dime or nothing at all. The poorer ones, who drove the beat-up cars, would give fifty cents. They understood what it was like to work hard.

Gail had two vices that were known to everyone. She loved chocolate kisses and liked to preach. When business was slow, she would reach into her drawer, unwrap a silver foil-covered chocolate, and pop it into her mouth.

I’ll bet she’ll be fat as a hog when she hits forty, Turkey McNair said to Jerry, as they bagged groceries nearby. Have you noticed how much facial makeup she wears? It looks like a mask.

Turkey’s name was Turkel McNair, but everyone called him Turkey. He wished his mother had picked a more normal name.

Gail’s friend, Connie, another cashier, overheard the exchange and went to Mr. Hornsbee.

McNair, I want you to go to the back room and work up the soda bottles, Mr. Hornsbee said, drawing him aside. You need to watch what you say in front of our customers and cashiers. It’s not good business.

The bottle room was the quietest place in the store where all the soda vendors left their wooden bottle flats. The returnable bottles were separated in sizes, brands, and stacked into tall rows, in the flats, for pickup during the week. It was the only place where the infuriating cashier intercom could not be heard. If you worked there, you made no tips. Later that morning, Jerry took his break in the bottle room with Turkey, to keep him company.

I got an idea. I know something that will really get Gail’s goat but we’ll have to be careful so Hornsbite doesn’t find out, Turkey said.

Yeah, I get tired of Gail yelling at us and then trying to save our souls when she’s had her chocolate fix, Jerry said.

Listen to me, Turkey said, leaning close to Jerry. I saw a can of chocolate- covered grasshoppers at a gourmet shop in the mall last week. They come in the same shape and size as her chocolate kisses.

Oh really? Jerry said, grinning. Oh no.

Yeah, but they’re covered in a fancy red and gold foil. What do you say we make a little switch? Could you go to the mall during your lunch hour today?

It would give me great pleasure, Jerry replied, laughing from the back of his throat and rubbing his hands together. How much do they cost?

They’re pretty expensive, but I’ll split the cost if you want to pull this one off,

Turkey said, pulling out his wallet. Here’s two dollars, that’s my half.

You bet I would.

About three hours later, Jerry came back carrying a fancy tin with four chocolate covered grasshopper kisses inside. He offered to take Gail’s trashcan to empty it and found four pieces of silver foil from her candy stash. He carefully unwrapped the colored foil from the grasshoppers and replaced it with the silver foil. When Gail went on break, Jerry returned with the trashcan, and dropped the substitutes into her candy bag; then they waited.

When business slowed down at mid-afternoon, Gail reached into her candy bag, unwrapped a chocolate kiss, and popped it whole into her mouth. She chewed for a moment, and swallowed it without comment. Jerry and Turkey stood nearby, holding their breath, looking at each other. She got another, unwrapped it, and repeated the process. Mrs. Goodman the Baptist preacher wife, and Gail’s Sunday School teacher, was loading her groceries onto Gail’s conveyer belt.

Hello Gail, why it’s always a pleasure to see you.

Gail returned the greeting as fulsome and sweet as a chocolate kiss. She snuck one more