ARCTIC BLAST 🌪
The heat wave showed no signs of letting up.
Neither did Scott.
As Scott L., store manager of WallyMart Store #808, stood taking in the garden scene and headed for a fresh cup of coffee, the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, Mr. Scott L. This is Dr. Smith's office calling. Just a reminder that you have an eye appointment at 1:00 p.m. on Thursday."
"Okay, got it."
Scott nodded.
"I'm good. I'll be there."
He hung up the phone and continued on with his day.
The heat wave showed no signs of letting up.
Neither did Scott.
The pollen won the first round.
A little hydration, a few electrolytes, and a second chance later...
Scott was back on his feet.
The day wasn't finished with him yet.
But he wasn't finished either.
Scott L. went to work at WallyMart 🙂 happy as can be.
Cannonball Number One
The Fourth of July was only a couple of weeks away, and WallyMart Store #808 had work to do.
Store Manager Scott L. had already survived a week that felt longer than most months. Basement flooding. Plumbers. City inspectors. A root knot hidden inside a pipe. Hay fever. Allergies. Even a trip for electrolytes just to keep moving.
Yet somehow the display had to be made.
Management approved the planogram. The cannonballs arrived. The pyramid went up.
At first, nobody thought much about it.
Then somebody noticed Cannonball Number One.
The top cannonball.
The one that didn't seem like it should be up there.
By 11:30 PM, customers, employees, a taxi driver, and at least one college kid looking for a frying pan had all stopped what they were doing to stare at it.
The restroom was ten feet away.
The Vision Center closed a few hours ago.
But still, nobody moved.
Nobody had an answer.
They just stood there looking.
And somehow, the longer they looked, the stranger it became.
WallyMart #808 Store Manager Scott L. was sitting comfortably in his office, feeling pretty good about things.
The Fourth of July Cannonball Display was finished. The sales floor looked great. And as far as Scott was concerned, everything important was already stored in the most reliable place available:
His head.
The office door opened.
A member of the Clean Team stepped inside, pushing her cleaning cart.
In one hand was the Cannonball Display Planogram.
And on the top shelf of her cart sat a lonely extra cannonball.
"Scott," she said, holding up the planogram, "looks like you left this on the store shelf."
Scott glanced at it.
"Oh yeah."
He nodded.
"Just chuck it."
"It's all in my head."
The Clean Team member made a swish that was all net.
"Mama needs a new pair of shoes!"
Scott told the cleaning lady to chuck the extra copy on his desk as well.
Clean Team member, sensing a problem, looked down at the extra copy handed to her.
"There ain't nothing in here about this extra cannonball."
Scott leaned back in his chair.
"Does it say where it was made?"
She looked it over.
"China."
Clean Team member made another swish.
"What do you want me to do with this extra cannonball?"
Scott looked at it.
"Let it roll."
Clean Team member shrugged.
The cannonball rolled off the cart.
CLUNK.
ROLL.
ROLL.
ROLL.
Across the floor it went.
"Easy peasy."
Scott nodded approvingly.
"Gotta put in some more time on that cannonball display."
Clean Team member turned toward the door.
Then she stopped.
One final question.
"How do you know, anyway?"
Scott leaned back in his chair.
"The Blue-Wing Lantern said so."
(A metallic-blue dragonfly from an earlier Scott L. story.)
Clean Team member shook her head.
"Zippity-doo-dah."
And with that, she disappeared down the hallway.
Scott sat alone in his office.
The planograms were gone.
Clean Team lady was gone.
Yet somehow Scott remained completely confident.
After all, everything important was exactly where it needed to be.
Right there in his head.
The week had become a blur.
Between the allergies, the heat wave, problems at home, and the endless demands of WallyMart Store #808, one day seemed to run into the next.
Somewhere along the way, Scott received a reminder about his eye appointment.
He fully intended to remember.
Then life happened.
Perhaps that explains why a certain camper could be found outside WallyMart at six o'clock in the morning, waiting for Vision Care to open three hours later.
Or perhaps there was another reason.
In the Zone of Fire and Ice, things are not always what they seem.
I got all my marbles.
They're all lined up.
But you can never be too sure.
You just might have that one that's gone missing.
After taking a deep breath, Scott L. looked around one more time.
I got all my marbles. They're all lined up. But you can never be too sure. You just might have that one that's gone missing.
Then he walked over to the tent.
As expected, there sat the camper dude.
"Hey, how you doing, buddy?"
The camper dude looked up.
"Yeah, my vision's shot. Everything's a blur. I need to take care of this."
Scott nodded.
For a moment, neither man said much. The camper dude was waiting for the Vision Care Center to open.
The rest of the story could wait.
Store Manager Scott L., WALLYMART Store 808, was getting ready to leave.
"All right then, buddy. Take it easy."
The Fool smiled.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
"Sure. I'm gonna do my eyeball exercises."
The store manager stopped.
"Your eyeball exercises?"
The Fool nodded.
"Yep. I got this one gizmo that takes care of me."
The store manager laughed.
"Really?"
The Fool pointed into the tent.
"Really."
The store manager looked curious.
"Mind if I take a look?"
The Fool smiled.
"Not at all."
And there was the one marble thought to have gone missing, though it had been in his head all along.
Friday morning, around 9:10.
Scott L. sat at the kitchen counter staring at the phone.
He had missed his eye appointment the day before.
Everything had been hectic the past week. A blur, really.
There had been the tree root blocking the pipes and flooding the basement. The trip to urgent care because of his allergies and asthma. The whole cannonball display situation. The heat. One thing after another.
It had gotten so bad that sometimes he couldn't tell whether it was hot or cold outside. He was just going with the flow, playing along, getting along.
Still, he knew he needed to make a call. He should check.
He picked up the receiver and called Dr. Smith's office.
"Good morning," he said. "I know this is a long shot, but do you have an opening for me to be seen today?"
"Hold on just a moment," said the receptionist.
Scott waited.
A minute later she returned.
"Well, you're in luck. We just had a cancellation. Can you make it down here in about an hour?"
Scott smiled.
"Absolutely."
"Oh, and one more thing, Scott."
"Yes?"
"If you need eyeglasses afterward, ask us about our Hotline Express connection with the Vision Care Center at WALLYMART Store 808. We'll electronically forward everything for you."
"That certainly sounds convenient."
"It is. We'll see you in about an hour. Be safe."
Scott hung up the phone and smiled.
Maybe today was going to work out after all.
Inside the Arctic dream, Scott L. stood no longer as a man worn down by the week, but as the Literary Motley.
In one hand he held the marble.
In the other, a blue pen.
Not a sword.
Not a crown.
A pen.
Behind him stood five greats of the written word: Shakespeare, Poe, Twain, Frost, and Hemingway.
They smiled as if they had been waiting for him.
The igloo was cold, but the light was warm.
And there, surrounded by ice, story, memory, and imagination, the Literary Motley understood something simple.
The world may blur.
The week may bend.
The marble may seem lost.
But the story remains.
And with a pen in hand, the story can begin again.
ABRACADABRA 🎭 🎬
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