NO HONOR AMONG

You stare at the self-checkout station for a long moment, then scoff. “Forget it. Everyone’s gone, the town’s evacuated—who’s going to miss a few supplies?”

Earl nods approvingly. “Now you’re thinking practical.”

You wheel the heavy cart straight past the registers and out the automatic doors. Earl follows, chatting about the weight of the generator and the best way to get it into your car.

Outside, you unlock your car and set your keys down on the roof while you open the back door. “Okay, let’s get this generator in,” you say.

You and Earl position yourselves on either side of the heavy machine, lifting it toward the back seat. It’s awkward and heavy, requiring both of you to—

Suddenly Earl drops his side. The full weight crashes down on you, and you struggle not to let it fall completely. “Earl! What are you—”

But Earl’s already moving. He snatches your keys from the roof and dives into the driver’s seat.

“Hey!” you shout, still wrestling with the generator. “What are you doing?!”

Earl starts the engine and rolls down the window. “If you’re gonna steal from me, I’m gonna steal from you!” he yells back, grinning that gap-toothed grin.

“Steal from YOU?!” you scream, but he’s already pulling away. Your car—with a full tank of gas and most of your supplies—disappears down Maple Ridge Drive, leaving you standing in the parking lot with a portable generator and a shopping cart full of stolen goods.

Furious and defeated, you walk back into the store. That’s when you notice something you’d missed before: the wall behind the customer service counter. Employee photos, awards, and in the center, a large, framed picture labeled “Owner / General Manager”.

Earl Brookfield grins back at you from the photograph, looking considerably cleaner and more respectable than the man who just stole your car.

Stranded at your own crime scene, by the man you just robbed. Perfect.