Pretty attacked

         Pretty chewed her gum and picked up grocery items that were slowly moving toward her on the conveyor belt. One at a time, she waved them magically in front of the scanner, and then released them. Canned tomatoes, times four. Cheese, $1.99. A value pack of Scotch-Brite. To her left, a mustachioed man packed the items into paper bags according to some rigorous scheme as they arrived. In front of Pretty, a woman in fat gold earrings waited patiently with her wallet ready. Queuing up to the right of her, customers awaited their turn, imitating the items on the conveyor belt, but unmoving.
         A paper-wrapped Italian sausage refused to be scanned. Pretty waved and waved, but it remained uncooperative. She lifted her foot from the pedal that controlled the conveyor belt to stop it, but the pedal was glued to the floor by several claggy pink chewing gums that had missed the wastebasket during the afternoon.
         The Italian sausage would not yield, and the line of vanilla ice cream, Scrapple, drain cleaner, chocolate syrup, milk, was no longer approaching politely; it was an invading army, marching relentlessly against Pretty’s right flank. Pretty chewed her gum faster, frowned and then curled her upper lip in an embarrassed smile. She used her right arm to wall off the invasion, and the groceries started to pile up. The customers behind the earringed lady moved restlessly--as if intent on emulating the hoard of inanimate objects encroaching on Pretty--now a curious and frustrated mob, pushing to get a glimpse of the disaster ahead. No items passed across the scanner. The mustachioed man waited, flushed and impatient, eager to pack. Pretty imagined that the cartons of ice cream were beginning to sag. She looked nervously over toward the far corner of the store where the manager was adjusting the adult magazines on their shelves. While her arm remained the only defense against the invading household products, she rolled her chair back as far as she could. Looking down between her feet she could clearly see the pink stuff peeking out from under the black rubber pedal.
         She acted. Chewing her gum more vigorously than ever before, she handed the offending sausage to the woman in front of her. She took the bottle of drain cleaner from the pile pressing against her arm, and with superhuman agility opened the child-safe lid with one hand, then poured some around the pedal on the floor. She stopped chewing for a moment, leaned down, and spat large quantities of saliva at the drain cleaner. Smoke and sputters rose dramatically from the pedal. The rebelling customers were shocked into silence. A moment later, the drain cleaner and the steel spring under the pedal had conquered the stickiness of the pink chewing gum, and the pedal sprung loose.
         The army of grocery items halted and remained motionless. Pretty relieved the woman of the Italian sausage and entered its price manually on the keypad. As she dragged her credit card through the slot, the woman leaned over to Pretty and whispered, “Well done!”
         Pretty winked casually, chewing her gum.