The gormless shop assistant, wearing a Santa hat, almost had the shock of his life, when, getting ready to open the store, he saw people massing outside, ready to rush in, and grab the one thing they had all come for. They all had the same look in their eyes as well, it was an intense stare of determination, of madness, and of desperation. The result was a load of nameless faces looking back, with only the whites of their eyes, and the colour of their irises being visible. The shop assistant glanced out the window. The throng of people waiting for the clock to hit nine went on as far as the eye could see. Alan was in the queue like everyone else on that cold Christmas Eve morning, waiting impatiently for the shop to open. He looked at his watch, only five more minutes to go. He sighed. This was his last chance to his son’s Christmas present – the must have that year, a Quizmojo. The Quizmojo was one of those strange toys that, since its release 6 months before, had sold next to nothing. In Japan, they couldn’t get enough of the thing, and they were flying off the shelves. In Britain, things took a little longer. A push by a store to get rid of their stock had brought it to the attention of parents, and children, who suddenly decided they all wanted one. Demand increased, and shops couldn’t keep up. Neither could the suppliers. The less of them around, the more desirable it became, and in the run up to Christmas, parent’s everywhere looked high and low of a £10 piece of plastic, only to find it sold out everywhere. Then a rumour spread, a local store was having a delivery of a 1000 on Christmas Eve. Parents within a 20 mile radius had been given hope, and now most of them were standing outside the store, in a queue that stretched out of the car park, onto the pavement of the main road, up the hill and around the corner. There had to be about 2000 people waiting. It didn’t take a genius to work out that there were going to be some disappointed children the next morning. Alan was hoping that the gift of the moment might please his son. He would be the first to admit that he wasn’t the world’s best father, but this year had been chaos. In fact, he could probably count of one hand the amount of times he had seen Scott this year. Business had been bad, he had been working 84 hour weeks to try and save his firm, with the hard work finally paying off in October, only to find that when he returned to a normal working week, Scott had developed interests that involved his Mother dashing here, there and everywhere five nights a week. The shop assistant watched the clock. 30 seconds. He has been told to only let one customer in at a time, but as soon as the clock struck nine, and the doors opened, any hope of letting people in one by one vanished as he was pushed to the ground by the crowd running through the doors and straight for the display that contained the gold dust that was a Quizmojo. He looked up, wondering whether it was safe or not to move, but since what approached resembled a herd of charging rhinoceroses, he decided to stay put. The other store staff, who were milling around, looked on in wonder as people dashed to the display, and grabbed boxes of the toy. Unique uses were found for handbags, and elbows. Screams of pain, and delight echoed around. Alan managed to get hold of a box, as the scrum continued around him. He then felt a jabbing sensation, then numbness, then a sharp pain above his eye. He let go of the box, and staggered backwards out of the crowd, and into an open space until someone caught him. The speakers, which were thumping out Christmas music, whirled into action, just as Cliff Richard was getting into his stride singing Mistletoe and Wine. “Jess to Customer Services with First Aid Kit, please.†Jess, who was filling up the bread shelf, moaned. She had only taken the First Aid course because it was four days off work, with a shiny badge at the end of it, and an extra £10 a week, while some man droned on about how to treat different wounds. The theory of the first aid course was that when you finished it, you weren’t meant to use it. Wrong! It seems that a week didn’t go by with her being called somewhere. She walked towards the front of the store, green first aid bag in tow, and went to customer services. Alan was there, clutching his forehead. In the background, the till bleeped with the sound of Quizmojo’s being brought. “Let’s have a look, then,†said Jess, removing Alan’s hand from his head. Blood covered it. Jess checked it. “Feeling ok? No headaches or anything?†“No.†“Good, I think it’s just a nasty gash. I’ll clean it up, and cover it over,†said Jess, reaching for an antiseptic wipe. “Have they all gone?†asked Alan, flinching. Jess looked around, and saw the empty stand where the Quizmojo’s were. “Yep.†“Damn! I was hoping to get one for my son! It was to make up for not being around much this year, you know, work and stuff. The strange thing, I’m not sure he even wanted one.†Jess finished putting the plaster on. “Then, why don’t you get him something he wants, something that means more to him?†“True,†said Alan, after a while. “Any ideas on what to get him?†“Why don’t you try looking in here? We’re a supermarket. We sell everything!†said Jess. Alan smiled. ******** Word Count 980. Inspired by trying to do my Christmas shopping!