I'll Be There For You - Pt.2

     Mr. Grumpy finally found the aisle that contained the firewood.  It was kept in bundles that were neatly stacked in a pyramid shape.  Mr. Grumpy surveyed the huge stack.  Getting a bottom one would cause the whole thing to collapse and the rest were too high to reach.  It looked like he was going to have to ask for help.  Just as he was thinking this, he noticed Mr. Stubborn stacking some cans of creamed corn…very poorly by the looks of it.  Just as he placed the last one on top, the whole stack collapsed…for the third time in a row.  Mr. Stubborn kicked some of the cans muttering something about them being cheap.  The uniform he wore clearly indicated that he was one of the superstore clerks for the week.  Mr. Grumpy sighed.  He knew he was going to regret asking Mr. Stubborn for help but he was in no mood to go around searching for someone else.  He walked up to Mr. Stubborn, who once again was attempting to restack the cans.  
     
     “Hey, Stubborn!” Mr. Grumpy spoke.
     
     Mr. Stubborn looked up, his face in it’s usual stubborn expression.
     
     “What is it, Mr. Grumpy?” He asked, irritated.
     
     “I need to get a bundle of firewood,” Mr. Grumpy explained while pointing at the wood stack, “But I can’t reach any of the high ones.  Can you get one down for me?”
     
     “Why don’t you just grab one from the bottom?” Mr. Stubborn asked.
     
     “Well, I would but that would cause the whole thing to collaspe,” Mr. Grumpy answered.
     
     “Ha!” Mr. Stubborn scoffed, “That stack is as sturdy as a rock!  There is no way that removing one little bundle could damage it!”
     
     “Of course it will!” Mr. Grumpy exclaimed, “Removing a bundle from the bottom will make it unsturdy.  The whole thing’ll come down like a sack of rocks!”
     
     “That’s what you think!” Mr. Stubborn replied, walking towards the stack.
     
     “What’re you doing?!” Mr. Grumpy cried.
     
     “Proving you wrong!” Mr. Stubborn exclaimed.  He grabbed one of the bottom bundles.
     
     “NOOOOOO!” Mr. Grumpy shouted, running towards Mr. Stubborn to stop him.
     
     With one strong tug, Mr. Stubborn pulled the bundle right out of its spot.  Mr. Grumpy covered his eyes and braced himself.  Nothing happened.  Mr. Grumpy looked up in disbelief.  Mr. Stubborn grinned.
     
     “What did I tell you?” He said triumphantly, giving the stack a pat, “Solid as a rock!”
     
     Unfortunately, that one little pat was all it took…
     
     CRAAAAAAAAASH!
     
     Mr. Grumpy and Mr. Stubborn soon found themselves under an avalanche of firewood.  When the sawdust had settled, both Mr. Men popped their heads up out of the debris.  Mr. Grumpy spit out a small log that he had gripped in his mouth.
     
     “I told you,” he hissed.
     
     Mr. Stubborn looked at the mess, then back at Mr. Grumpy.
     
     “That stack,” he declared, “Was definitelyyyyyyy…..CHEAP!”

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     After pulling himself out of the debris, Mr. Grumpy was finally able to get together a bundle of firewood.  By the time he got it though, he was fuming.  He stomped towards where the cash registers were and waited in line, struggling under the weight of the wood.  When he finally reached the front, he was dismayed to see that the cashier was none other than…Mr. Scatterbrain.  Mr. Grumpy could already feel a major headache coming on.
     
     “H’llo, Mr. Grumpy!” Mr. Scatterbrain greeted with a wave, “Did you enjoy your shopping experience!”
     
     “Like I enjoy walking on glass,” Mr. Grumpy muttered.  
     
     “Good to hear!” Mr. Scatterbrain laughed, completely missing the sarcastic tone of the comment.
     
     Mr. Grumpy rolled his eyes.
     
     “Now, let’s see,” said Mr. Scatterbrain, adding up the price, “That’s one bundle of firewood and one waffle iron.”
     
     “Waffle iron?” Mr. Grumpy responded, confused, “I didn’t buy a waffle iron.”
     
     “Don’t you like waffles?” Mr. Scatterbrain asked.
     
     “Well…yes, but…” Mr. Grumpy started to explain.
     
     “Then a waffle iron is just what you need!”  Mr. Scatterbrain declared.
     
     “But I didn’t get a waffle iron!”  Mr. Grumpy responded.
     
     Mr. Scatterbrain gasped.
     
     “Don’t tell me we’re out of stock?!”  He cried.  “And just before Christmas too!”
     
     He leaned over the register.
     
     “It just isn’t Christmas without waffles, ya’ know,” he whispered.
     
     Mr. Grumpy was starting to loose his temper…or what was left of it.
     
     “No, you’re not out of stock!”  He replied, “It’s just…”
     
     “Of course, pancakes are pretty good too,”  Mr. Scatterbrain admitted contemplatively, “But nothing says ‘Merry Christmas’ like freshly baked waffles…with a side of toast, of course.”
     
     Mr. Grumpy smacked his hand against his head in frustration.  That was all he could take.
     
     “LOOK!” He shouted, “I DON’T WANT A WAFFLE IRON!  AND I DON’T NEED A WAFFLE IRON!  ALL I WANT IS THIS BUNDLE OF FIREWOOD!  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”
     
     He pounded his fist against the firewood.
     
     “THIS FIREWOOD RIGHT HERE!”  He exclaimed.
     
     Mr. Scatterbrain stared silently at the firewood bundle for a few seconds.  He laughed.
     
     “Where is my head?”  He replied.
     
     He typed in the item.
     
     “One bundle of firewood,” he read, “That’ll be $15, please.”
     
     “Finally!” Mr. Grumpy snapped, handing the money to Mr. Scatterbrain.
     
     “Any chance, I can get this thing delivered to my house?” He asked.
     
     “Oh, I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Grumpy,”  Mr. Scatterbrain apologized, solemly, “But we only have one delivery truck, and it’s in the shop for repairs.  You see, Thirston wrecked it yesterday while making a delivery.”
     
     “Thirston?” Mr. Grumpy responded, dumbfounded.
     
     “Oh, yes,”  Mr. Scatterbrain replied, nodding, “Thirston is my pet gorilla.  He has trouble with his driving sometimes…road rage ya’ know.”
     
     “Of course,”  Mr. Grumpy sighed hopelessly.
     
     “Well, here’s your receipt,”  Mr. Scatterbrain said, handing it to Mr. Grumpy, “Thank you for shopping at the Dillydale Superstore!  Have a nice day!”
     
     “Does everyone have to say that?”  Mr. Grumpy asked, annoyed.
     
     With a grunt, he lifted up the heavy load of firewood.  Grumbling, he shuffled towards the exit.
     
     “Wait!”  Cried Mr. Scatterbrain, running up to him.
     
     Mr. Grumpy groaned.
     
     “WHAT NOW?!”  He shouted.
     
     Smiling, Mr. Scatterbrain placed a package on top of the firewood.
     
     “You forgot your waffle iron,”  He replied.
     
     Mr. Grumpy would’ve strangled him if his hands weren’t full.
     
     “I told you, I didn’t…”  He started to say through clenched teeth.
     
     “Oh, don’t worry about it!”  Mr. Scatterbrain laughed with a wave of his hand, “Consider it an early Christmas present!  I just can’t stand the thought of someone being waffle-less on Christmas.”
     
     With another laugh, Mr. Scatterbrain walked back to the register.  Mr. Grumpy just stared with a blank expression.  Then, with a snort, he once again shuffled wearily to the exit.  It was going to be a long walk home.