Karen Ruttlesby Is Awesome

(Pulse Rifle note: By popular request - this story was written around this time last year, and is a much happier diversion than the last story I wrote. A work of complete fiction.)

    Abe's Hardware Store did not seem to be the most welcoming place for Karen and her shiny friend Mr Sniffs that she carried under her arm. Filled with the smells of fresh lumber floating through the air, she walked with a deliberate purpose to the row of wheeled basket carts. Her three-and-a-half-foot frame barely allowed her to reach over the basket, but it did not deter her from using all of her strength to pull a cart from the row and orient it around so that it faced the aisles. Once the matter of the cart had been settled, she placed her friend in the smaller pocket near the handrail just as Mommy would place her while she shopped. “You stay right here, Mr Sniffs. Mommy's got some shopping to do!” she told her friend.

    Mr Sniffs had no response. He just sat in the pocket of the cart, jiggling to himself with the sounds of his excitable belly rattling about as Karen pushed her way out of the opening of the store. To any average passerby, Mr Sniffs appeared to be a lavender ceramic pig bank with a playful disposition and floral patterns drawn on its abdomen and hind quarters. However, Mr Sniffs was much more than that to little Karen. He was her watchpig, her safety precaution. Who would want to hurt a girl holding somebody as imposing as Mr Sniffs? He was so heavy! If her brother Marshall's stories were any indication, nobody would ever want to mess with something so dense.

    With as small a frame as Karen had, pushing the basket all by herself was harder work than it was for Mommy. She had her arms up as high as she could manage, managing to push herself along at a pace her legs didn't seem to cooperate with. Recalling something she had seen Mommy watch on TV when Karen should not have been watching, she decided to get a small running start with the cart and then jump on the rear axle brace and ride it like a bicycle without pedals. This pleased her greatly, as it did not take as much effort as pushing the cart had. Mr Sniffs enjoyed himself as well, rattling in joy.

    “Wha-ooww,” Karen said to herself aloud as she scooted by the various plumbing and lighting aisles. They were much taller than she was, and filled with so much stuff she had never seen before! The chandelier displays were her favorite because they twinkled and made Mr Sniffs sparkle as they pressed by. Conversely, the plumbing section confused her a bit – there were all these pipes that seemed big enough to be noticed but she'd never seen them around her own house. Mommy had told her that hardware stores carried everything that helps fix their home, but what could be wrong with it that these pipes would fix? She shrugged her shoulders as she made her way down to the tools aisle.

    “Well, I'll be,” said Roderick, his face opening wide to display a grin that made his beard change shape. His handyman's clothing and Abe's name tag affixed on his chest helped tell Karen that this man, while a stranger, was not someone Mommy taught her to fear. He laughed a hearty laugh that sounded like one of the strong men in the cartoons she watched at home. “Are you lost, young lady?” he asked.

    “No, mister sir. I am shopping.” Karen's brow furrowed a little. She remembered that Mommy would always make the same sort of face whenever anybody at the grocery store asked her a question. She wanted to be honest with him, and that is why she laid her intentions bare.

    “How old are you?” Roderick inquired again. Citing the only natural concern of a little girl on her own in a hardware store, he grasped at his radio that was attached to his belt.

    With a heaved sigh, Karen rolled her eyes at the man as she waved four fingers at him, nails faced toward Roderick. “I'm THIS many.” Mommy always liked heaving sighs and rolling her eyes whenever men at stores asked her questions. She hadn't learned all of the reasons for Mommy's shopping patterns, but if they gave others the impression she was a grown-up she was not about to act any different. Paying no further attention toward the man, she continued to maneuver her cart as she had before.

    As she wheeled herself around the aisles, Karen assembled a trove of items in her basket: a roll of duct tape, a hammer, a small package of nails, a package of twine, and a box of matchsticks. Some of these items did not find their way into her basket easily. The hammer, for example, required her to scale the shelves to obtain it while none of the attendants were looking so she wouldn't get in trouble. Mommy always told her climbing shelves wasn't polite, but it was so much fun to do while no one was looking!

    With all of her necessities fulfilled, Karen approached the checkstand. As the woman behind the register looked on in wonder, Karen dove into the basket while balancing her weight on the lip, gathering all of the items and placing them on the conveyer. She retrieved Mr Sniffs from the basket, and slung him under her arm. “I will not need the basket, thank you!” she announced as she pushed the cart away from the checkstand – this was another trick Mommy taught her.

    “That will be twenty twenty-eight. And what will we be paying with today?” the woman behind the register asked, slightly irritated with Karen's method of discarding the cart.

    “Mr Sniffs will be paying. Duh.”

    The woman laughed as Karen began to unhinge Mr Sniff's hind quarters to obtain money to pay for the things she bought. “Your parents never bought you a purse?”

    Karen stopped fiddling with Mr Sniff's tummy to herald a response: “Mommy says that purses are for girls who paint their faces like the clowns do. I'm not that kind of girl!”

    “Oh! Wow! Well, I'm sorry I asked! So, what are all of these things for that you're buying today?” The woman was genuinely curious, as it's not every day a four-year-old girl with indignation walks up to her checkstand with a Mr Sniffs.

    “I need these to make Marshall be quiet,” Karen revealed quietly, her chin tucking into her chest after laying the required monies on the counter.

    A wave of sympathy and panic washed across the cashier's face. Who was this Marshall character? How would a hammer, nails, twine, duct tape and matchsticks make someone be quiet? It seemed like a cartoon method of killing a small person, and she could not imagine that this little girl would have such malicious intentions. She thought to call her manager to take Karen into custody.

    Karen continued. “Marshall says that if I buy him this stuff, he'll stop telling me scary stories. I hate scary stories, and they make me have the nightmares and wet my bed.” The cashier's lips pursed together, indicating she may have misjudged the little girl. “Oh! Mommy says not to make the duck face because it looks silly.”

    With great care, the cashier tucked away the “duck face” she was making. “Why doesn't Marshall buy these things himself?”

    “He says Mommy won't buy them for him, but that if I do, he won't tell me scary stories anymore. He said Mr Sniffs would help me.”

    “Did he tell you what these are for?” the cashier pressed. These were such odd circumstances; she had to know.

    “He didn't tell me. I'm guessing he just wants to break his toys again. They're not his friends, like Mr Sniffs. Mr Sniffs is great.”

    The cashier giggled and said “Mr Sniffs is pretty great. He had enough money for you to buy these for you. Now, I put the receipt for these in the bag.” The cashier walked around and handed the bag to Karen. “Mind if I ask what your name is?”

    Karen thrust the bag into the air as she made a triumphant fist. “I AM KAREN RUTTLESBY, AND I AM AWESOME!” With a delighted scamper, she ran out of the store with the bag and Mr Sniffs in tow.