A Short Story

Chris and I had just finished another arduous pop bottle run. We were now comfortably lounging on a stack of newspapers on the bottom shelf of the magazine rack at Hansen’s Variety Store. Little did I know that just three years later, I’d be working there as a stock boy protecting pop bottles from boys like me and Chris, and keeping youngsters off that magazine rack.

Chris wasn’t my cousin’s first name. For some reason, he didn’t like it, saying it reminded him of someone he didn’t care for. As you can imagine, his first name was a source of amusement and the point where we could tease him. For the record, his first name was very common, so it wasn’t like he was named Ebenezer or something.

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