March 15, 2002

NEW KRISPY KREME STORE OPENS IN CONSUMER ZONE D

The sun hangs on the grimy, brown horizon in a mottled, red mess like a bloody egg yolk cracked on a dirty countertop.  A thick haze of gas fumes and industrial smog fills the stagnant air as cars and trucks locked in an endless traffic jam belch more smog into the hot summer sky.

The traffic is thick even for a Tuesday on Price Mart Boulevard in the heart of Consumer Zone D.  Massive SUVs lumber in and out of the overcrowded parking lots around Appliance World, Sale Mart, the Thorn Coat Factory, and the other huge box-like buildings ranged down both sides of the street.  The vehicles creep by at a snail's pace, then when a parking spot opens up they charge forward viciously.

In front of the new Krispy Kreme store, a slot opens and two pickup trucks barge towards it.  In a game of chicken, neither gives, and they collide, metal screaming against metal.  The drivers leap out, attack, and roll on the hot black tarmac pummeling each other.  Their struggle goes unnoticed as the restless crowd of three or four hundred push and jostle their way forward in line around the donut shop.  The line circles three times around the building and the queues of hungry people threading back and forth look like a snake eating its own tail.  A steady swarm of customers push their way into the green and white shop each time the door opens.

A trickle of customers exit, waddling out with green and white bags and boxes clutched tight against their chests.  Filthy children in rags swarm around them begging for a donut or a scrap.  The lucky few who get a handout race across the parking lot and huddle in front of the boarded-up Bible World Wholesale Gospel Shop.  They wolf down the fleshy, sugar-coated scraps greedily beneath the big, unlit neon cross sign.

The crowd grows restless as the front door opens again.  The manager, a fat, tired man in a dirty, grease-splattered apron, steps out and raises a bullhorn:  "Running low.  Running low.  Last one hundred to be served.  Last one hundred to be served," he announces.

The line which had been ragged but orderly immediately dissolves as the pack of hungry customers turns into a mob.  They charge the doors of the Krispy Kreme store.  A mass of humanity crushes against the reinforced bulletproof glass and steel bars of the doors.  Shouts of anger explode from the back of the crowd as people afraid of being cheated out of their share of donuts push forward.

From inside, the bullhorn roars:  "Please disperse.  Please disperse.  The Krispy Kreme is closed.  The Krispy Kreme is closed.  The Mercs are on their way.  Please disperse."

The crowd howls, and the unfortunate last customer to exit the store is mauled.  The three boxes of donuts he carries are torn apart as the mob rips and tears at the greasy nuggets, sugar smeared on their fevered lips.

Sirens ring out from across the street as the Mercs move in.  The Merchandise Police Force Squad has just finished suppressing the mob across the street.  Smoke still rises from the gutted Best Buy store as stray looters cart away broken boxes of video-mats and tech-squibs.

                         A battered blue and white armored car with a bulldozer attached to its bumper plows through the lot scraping aside the vehicles that can't move, and the three APCs filled with troops follow in its wake.  Minutes later the Mercs dismount in front of the Krispy Kreme, exhausted from their third riot of the day.  Wearily, they form a skirmish line and begin to push through the hot, rabid crowd.  They form a wall with their blue plexiglass shields and clear the way, swinging huge, bat-like riot batons.  The mob fights back, clawing at the blue-helmeted troopers.  Still the Mercs push forward and clear a way to the front door.

Captain Lopez pounds on the door and is let in by the manager as the crowd roars.  Outside, the thirty-man Merc squad is restless as they fight to maintain their perimeter.  Through the windows they see the manager gesturing wildly as Lopez bulls his way past him into the huge kitchen area in the back.  "Cap must be securing the rear exit," Sanchez calls out.  Anything would be better than fighting their way back through the crowd.  The radio crackles with the news that the Choppers will be arriving soon.

A minute later Lopez emerges from the kitchen and immediately strikes the manager full force in the face then savagely kicks at him as he rolls on the ground.  Through the glass, Lopez looks angry and shaken.  He pushes past the last few customers cowering inside the lobby eating their donuts, disgust in his eyes.

The Choppers arrive hovering in the sky, and dozens of canisters of bright blue tear gas rain down on the hysterical mob.  Lopez bursts outside and pulls off his helmet.

"What is it, Cap?" Sanchez calls out over the din.

Lopez shakes his head in amazement and shock.

"It's people," he yells.  "It's people.  Krispy Kreme is made out of people."

The crowd erupts as a thick, acrid blanket of blue smog envelops them all.