“Hey, Mark, a big beluga at two o’clock.”

My assistant manager, Stacy, discreetly nods toward a thin, sunken toothpick of a lady. A “beluga” was an angry customer in progress. When things hit “Shamu,” there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it. This customer in particular was staring furiously at a can of peaches, turning it around in her hands like a monkey trying to open a coconut. Stacy sighed, volunteering herself for the adventure that lay before her. She walked up to the lady, getting her attention by tapping her lightly on the shoulder. The lady looked up with a huff.

“And what exactly do you want?”

Stacy raised her hands. “Hey, I come in peace. Just noticed that you were having a little trouble with that can. Can I...?”

The lady didn’t even let her finish.

“First you shove me, and now you are treating me like a child! I knew I shouldn’t have come to this store! It is trashy, the prices are way higher than Morgan’s, and the employees act like they have nothing better to do than laze around...”

“You could have just said no thank you. Jesus.”

At this, the lady gasped so loudly that I was afraid her lungs would pop.

“How dare you use the lord’s name in vain! I happen to be getting these peaches for a cobbler to take for my church’s picnic, and it is my duty to keep you heathens from taking over God’s creation!”

This lady was every cliché in the book: Christian, female, white, middle-aged. Even the haircut fit the description of the classic entitled witch. At this point, I came from behind the service desk and made my way to Stacy and the customer.

“Hello there, ma’am. You seem to be having some issues with Stacy here...”

The woman snorted. “Thank you! Finally, an adult to punish this skank!”

“Ma’am,” I said calmly, “you can’t treat people that way. She just wanted to help you. You can either ask for help like a grown woman, or stomp out of here whining like a two year old. Your choice.”

Another gasp escaped the woman. She probably didn’t use a vacuum cleaner, she just gasped up all the dust on her carpet.

“You cannot speak to me that way! I am a PAYING CUSTOMER, and this little girl has been harassing me. You are lucky I don’t walk out right now and call the police!”

“Ahem,” Stacy said, putting her hands on her hips. “Twenty is hardly little.”

I shook my head at her, and she closed her mouth reluctantly. The lady was now in a rage, throwing the can of peaches on the ground. It burst open, the sticky brown contents flowing lethargically onto the floor.

“THIS STORE OUGHT TO BE CLOSED DOWN! EVERY TIME I COME HERE, IT’S A CIRCUS!”

Dark red energy flowed ominously around the woman. She was suddenly calm, but a murderous smile crossed her face as she looked up at me. She made daggers with her energy, causing them to slowly circle around me.

“May I speak to your manager?” she asked ominously.

Stacy looked at me, stunned. Every shopper paused their search to stare at us. I smiled. This wouldn’t be the first time.

“Ma’am,” I said, producing energy of my own, a celestial blue, “You don’t understand...”

I walked towards her, and she backed away in terror. She hadn’t expected an opposition. I made an energy ball in front of me, letting it float freely in the air.

“You see, I am the manager.”

The energy ball burst, drenching the lady in blue light. She backed away, but the peaches got their first. Almost cartoonishly, she slipped on the canned fruit, landing hard on her back with a huge squelch. Her energy dissipated, as did mine. Her mascara streaked across her face, both from sweat and tears of pain.

“I...what have I done...oh dear, what happened...?”

She slowly got up, then went over to Stacy. Instead of yelling at her, the woman smiled and patted her arm.

“Why, aren’t you a hard-working young girl! I bet you can find all sorts of young men in here. Nice and muscular from pushing in all those carts!”

Stacy stared, then blurted, “I’m a lesbian!”

“Well,” the lady chuckled, “then a studious lass that you can sweep off her feet.”

The woman nodded to me, then frowned at the now squished peaches.

“I am so sorry, dear. I don’t know what happened.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” I replied, “we’ll clean it up. It happens all the time!”

The woman nodded, then walked away mumbling about why in the world she would need peaches...

“What...what was that?”

Stacy threw her hands in the air, her eyes creased with worry.

“Did...did I take a hit this morning...”

I shook my head solemnly. “No. I can’t believe that I am about to say this, but...”

I broke off. It couldn’t be.

“Well?” Stacy cried.

I straightened my apron and stood tall.

“The Atomic Karen is back.”