Dr. Indiana Jones was stricken with fright. He wasn’t waist-deep in a snake hole or a Wehrmacht conversation pit. He was standing in the overcrowded parking lot of Bed Bath & Beyond. Indiana was an archeology professor at the Marshall College. He was popular with students and teachers alike. Young girls adored him. Everyone thought they knew the bashful teacher. But there was a skeleton hanging up in his closet, one that had never been on exhibit. No one knew Dr. Jones was completely terrified of shopping. It more than embarrassed him. It soaked his underpants and liquefied his spine. If he wasn’t equipped with his bullwhip and gun belt, Indiana would have lacked the courage to enter the retail outlet. It’ll take just a second, he reassured himself, swallowing back saliva. Then I’m out. No one will see me. Indiana Jones was halfway across the parking lot when he heard a familiar voice.
"Professor Jones!"
Dr. Jones froze in his tracks. Hesitantly, he looked over his left shoulder.
"Professor Jones! Over here!"
Indiana squinted in the sharp sunlight. He had removed his fedora to check the interior for dandruff. He’d run low of Head and Shoulders weeks ago. Scampering towards him was one of his students from the Archaeology class he taught regularly. Her name was Trisha. She was dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans and a yellow halter top. A pair of Keds bopped across the hot concrete. In her grips were loaded shopping bags.
"Well hello," Indiana greeted. His smile was faltering with unease. He hoped Trisha didn’t notice.
Trisha asked him, "What are you doing here? I didn't know you shopped at Bed Bath & Beyond."
"Well, I do now."
"Seriously?"
"Yep." Indiana donned his fedora. "You drive?"
"I do."
He pointed to her shopping bags. "You forget those?"
Trisha shook her head. "Nah, Professor Jones, I didn't forget. I'm just careful. Scared someone will leave me high and dry without my goods."
To Indiana, her answer sounded awkward, but he didn't say so.
Indiana and Trisha spoke amicably a little longer before they both passed through the automatic doors of Bed Bath & Beyond. Once inside, it was impossible to keep near the doors, since shoppers had them working overtime. One could almost hear the doors wheezing with exertion and agitation.
Trisha looked from side to side. "So...?" She appeared a trifle nervous.
"What?"
Trish shook her head. "Never mind, it's nothing."
Indiana's wasn't going to let his student off that easy. His curiosity was piqued. He placed a callused hand on her right shoulder. "Tell me. What's wrong?"
"Well," Trish started. "I've been thinking really hard and"I don't know how to say this, but...I want to buy something for"for""
Indiana chuckled. Summer break was almost here, and some of the students were surprising their teachers with gifts. He expected Trisha to tell him that was why she was shopping, but he expected wrong.
When Trisha continued speaking, it was with a mean, bulldog tone. She stared Indiana straight in the eyes, florescent light and menace glinted sharply there. "Professor Jones, listen up,” she barked. “I have to have it. I will have it. It's the only thing I think about anymore. Don't try to stop me from acquiring it, or I promise you, you’ll be sorry."
Indiana's jaw went slack. "Do what?" The bewilderment in his voice was not forced.
Trisha balled her fists and screamed, "I said don't stop me Professor Indiana Jones, or you'll be sorry! I know why you're here, and"and you'll never take it from me! Not now, not ever!" The frail, malnourished girl swung a shopping bag Indiana’s way. Although slightly paralyzed, he able to duck just as the bag sailed overhead. Trisha, after huffing, scampered off towards the back of the store.
Indiana straightened and composed himself. Someone must've noticed the commotion, he presumed silently. And they'll wanna know if I always have lady problems. None of the other customers seemed to have noticed though; all were busy filling shopping baskets and thickening the checkout lanes. Moments later an overweight store clerk approached him. Indiana figured he'd inquire about the girl's actions, but his figuring was in shambles today. The clerk, breathing hard, said, "Uh...sir."
Indiana said, "No, I don't know just what happened. She's a student of mine, but""
"Sir," the clerk interrupted, he'd finally found his second wind. "You need any"you need any help finding anything? Sorry I couldn't get here sooner."
"No thanks."
"Does the girl? She looked awfully lost. Maybe I can help her find something nice""
Something large crashed into the automatic doors and rocked them in their frame. Glass splintered. Indiana jerked his head left and saw what had caused the impact. The sight had him wishing he'd stayed at home instead of venturing outdoors. It was a trio of bug-eyed customers, smashed crookedly against the doors. Their movement towards the entrance of Bed Bath & Beyond had been so swift, the doors hadn't had a chance to open, and so they’d just barreled right at them without slowing like stampeding bulls. Indiana stared dumbfounded at the store clerk. Help? Call an ambulance? The smiling clerk just smiled and asked the trio mildly, "Can I help you guys with something? We have a great sale right now on all dish towels."
Indiana Jones wanted to puke. He took off in the direction of his fleeing student. Already the day was disgusting. He felt lightheaded; his mind whirled. Thirst and prior craziness had robbed him of coherent thought. He needed to sit down. After spotting an overturned shopping cart, Indiana had a seat. After unscrewing the cap from his canteen, he upended the vessel over his mouth and guzzled cold water.
"Hey buddy!"
Startled, Indiana craned his neck and stared up. Standing above him on a high shelf was a man holding on to a metal support and a stainless steel napkin holder.
"Yeah you!" The man sounded infuriated. "You're in my way!"
Indiana jumped from his position. He managed to clear space just seconds before the electrified man climbed down from the shelf and placed his feet squarely on the overturned cart. The customer was short and wiry; Indiana outweighed him by fifty pounds. Making his way to the floor, the man asked Indiana rudely, "Didn't you see me up there?" His face resembled Steven Spielberg's after the famous director learned strangers had dared to step foot near his beachfront property. "I ain't invisible, you know."
Indiana fastened the cap on his canteen and replied, "No, I didn't see you." Where was this going?
"Well open your eyes," the man growled, his own eyes like pointed daggers and just as dangerous. "There are other people in this world other than yourself." He did an about-face, flipped the shopping cart to its upright position, and then, with all the delicacy in the world, placed the napkin holder in the cart.
Speechless, Indiana stared at the man as he hustled away. What is wrong with these people?
Indiana Jones decided to find out.
* * *
"It's mine! You can't have it! Nooo!"
Indiana's brow creased. His ears perked. It sounded as if someone needed his help. He paced quickly towards a loud clamoring. Turned the corner and saw"
Oh great. Indiana stopped dead in his tracks. Reaching for the coiled whip strapped on one hip opposite his gun-holster, his right hand froze. For a moment, Indiana didn't move a muscle, not a single twitch. He couldn't believe what he was actually seeing; ironic, considering all he'd taken in during his travels. It was Trisha and a female store associate, having a tug of war with a down comforter. The associate was small and thin-boned, but she wasn't giving up. Face conveyed pain, urgency, and a strong will. Her expression said: "Never!"
"Hey! Hey, what's going on here?" Indiana’s shouting went unheard. Both women continued to tug as if no one had spoken. They were lost in a personal struggle. Nothing mattered except the comforter stretched out before them.
"Let go witch!" Trisha spat. "Let go! Let go! Let go!"
"It's mine!" countered the store associate. "All mine!"
"Noooo!"
"Gimme please!"
"I want it! Let go!"
"Why!"
"Ahhhh!"
Indiana was about to step in and break up the two women, but that was before Trisha tricked the store associate out by simply releasing her hold on the comforter. Arms pin wheeling, the associate flew backwards and took a hard seat on a low-slung water fountain. Despite her weight"hundred pounds soaking wet"landing on the fountain had it tearing free from the wall. The fountain clanged on the floor; water sprouted from a hole where the fountain had previously hung and drenched the store associate head to toe. Trisha went for the down comforter hell-for-leather. Hands outstretched, she almost had it. Fingers clutched, felt, found"Indiana though, wasn't stung from surprise any longer; he had expected her move and had reacted the best way he knew how"with his whip! It cracked the air in a microsecond.
"Oh no you don't." Indiana said sternly. The comforter was cinched from Trisha's grip and reeled to shore.
Trisha grabbed for it immediately. "Give it to me Professor Jones!"
"No."
"Yes!"
"No."
"Yes!"
Indiana didn't usually hit girls, but the thought of belting his student in the face crossed his mind.
"Are you crazy?" he whispered, furtive. He didn't exactly prefer an audience. "Are you?"
No answer.
Indiana, bothered, but not completely shaken up, folded the comforter and placed it with other comforters on a nearby shelf. He stepped cautiously toward Trisha and then gazed into her distraught face. He attempted to find sanity there, and moments later, he found some.
Trisha's eyes, swelling like puffer fish, poured on the tears. They came fresh and unabated for thirty seconds before she wrapped her arms around Indiana’s waist.
"I'm so sorry, Professor Jones," she wailed. "I don't know what came over me."
Water from the broken fountain collected around their feet and soaked their shoes and socks. It was cold, but his fingers were warm. He brushed her hair. "Hush," he told her as she cried in his arms. "Just hush." For a little while, everything was normal. Quiet. The fallen store associate remained unconscious. Trish continued to cry and Indiana continued to comfort her. Shoppers in pursuit of more bargains passed the teacher and student. Occasionally, they gave the pair disinterested glances before moving on. The shoppers had plenty more buying to do, and nothing, not even God's fire and brimstone battering the Earth, would hinder their single-minded goal.
* * *
Indiana opened the driver's-side door on Trisha's elephant-sized SUV and his student climbed in and settled behind the wheel.
"Thank you for understanding me," she said, wiping her eyes with a Kleenex. Her cheeks were rosy with blush.
"It's no problem. I'm always here if you need me." Indiana looked around the lot. "Well...not here. You know what I mean!"
Trisha’s laugh sounded natural.
Indiana: "Just take it easy driving home. Okay?"
"I will."
Trisha started the SUV and clicked on the radio. Limp Biscuit blared from the speakers, which was hard on Indiana's ears. When he realized she'd be all right without him, he closed her door gently and then began making his way towards his Jeep Cherokee parked three rows over.
"What an awful day," Indiana muttered to himself, cracking open his own door. He had almost escaped that awful day when he heard a series of piercing, blood-curdling screams rip into the windy afternoon like a barrage of exploding mortal shells.
"Nooooo! They'll never take it from me! I'm coming for you! Just hold on!"
Indiana turned in the direction of the screams. What he saw capsized his mind and threw the rest of him overboard. It was Trisha of course, and resembling a resident straight out of Maniac Mansion. She was sprinting towards the entrance of Bed Bath & Beyond. And no longer was she holding her shopping bags; Indiana had lugged them into the rear compartment of her SUV just minutes ago. What Trisha now death-gripped were two things Indiana had never seen a young woman wield menacingly before. In one hand was a Mossberg rifle, pointed in the direction of shoppers exiting the store in droves; the other was a titanium baseball bat, slung behind her head.
"Get out of my way!" Trisha hollered vehemently at the exiting customers. "Get out of my way or I'll give you more bolt-action than you really deserve!"
Indiana dropped like a lead weight into the driver's seat. He found himself unable to move. Stunned, he gawked with open-mouth horror as a gut-wrenching milieu unfolded before him: Police cruisers squealing and braking in front of Bed Bath & Beyond…Officers disembarking and pouring through the automatic doors…Multiple gunshots ringing out…Glass shattering …Fire breaking out after an explosion rocked the building. Indiana watched as multiple fire trucks and ambulances arrived, as customers left the building bruised, disheveled, bloodied. Indiana's eyes never left the grim scene. Nearby, Beethoven's Ode To Joy played from someone's car speakers. The music swept heavily through the chaotic afternoon. For Indiana, it was three light years away.
Crazy, he thought. Simply crazy.
Indiana just sat and watched as a temple of doom turned to ashes. It was all Indiana could do. An hour later, after the dust settled and a sooty, angry hellion was apprehended, he shut his door, keyed the ignition, and then started home. It wouldn't do any good for him to stick around. Besides, he had some papers to grade and an exotic artifact to examine.
He was thankful for the recent brush with danger. It would always remind him shopping was too much for one man to bear.
The End
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