“Thlink.” The little bell froze mid-ring, and so did I. But not because the bank sign across the parking lot read 31 degrees.
“Chucky boy,” said the voice I loathed as Evan “Sneezer” Scrooge shoved a foil gum wrapper into the slot of the red metal bucket, swinging it into my hip.
“Merry Christmas, Sneezer.” I grumbled, inching my foot out to trip him, but stopping just as a lady in a designer jacket reached between us to drop a couple of quarters into the slot. “Merry Christmas!”
“Bah, humbug.” And he disappeared into the crowded produce section.
“Chucky boy,” said the voice I loathed as Evan “Sneezer” Scrooge shoved a foil gum wrapper into the slot of the red metal bucket, swinging it into my hip.
“Merry Christmas, Sneezer.” I grumbled, inching my foot out to trip him, but stopping just as a lady in a designer jacket reached between us to drop a couple of quarters into the slot. “Merry Christmas!”
“Bah, humbug.” And he disappeared into the crowded produce section.
