Tales From Aisle Doom: The John Erickson Story

As he started his car, John Erickson broke into tears. It was 4:30am and he had not yet fallen asleep, nor had he on the two previous nights. For nearly a week his mind had been firing random thoughts--sometimes cynical, sometimes hateful, rarely relevant. He was now forty-five years old, but felt as though he had aged beyond his years. His father had counted on him to continue the Erickson family name, as he was the last living male on his Father’s side of the family, but this was now very unlikely to happen. Feelings of self-loathing had permeated his inner depths to the point that he now hated those around him as well. He decided to take a long drive, which he hoped could possibly clear his head, if only for a short time.

As John passed the Baron von Savings Grocery Store headquarters, he wondered if there was, or ever had been a Baron von Savings. If so, was he a likeable baron? Was there such thing as a likeable baron? Turning his car around, he mumbled to himself, ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this, if it’s the last thing I do.’ Thinking about what he had just said, and the utter stupidity of it, he thought it better just to look it up in the dictionary:

bar·on n

1. a male member of the lowest rank of British or Japanese nobility, or a nobleman of various ranks in some European countries

2. someone who commands power or influence

3. a nobleman in the Middle Ages who was given land in return for loyal service

4. a cut of beef consisting of a double sirloin, joined at the backbone

John mustered every ounce of his mental capacity to analyze this definition (the lack of sleep had left his mind in a comatose state.) If Baron von Savings were a nobleman, odds were that he wouldn’t be in the grocery business. It was possible that he was a man that commanded power or influence, but John thought this to also be unlikely, as he had never heard much about him. Although he had been a loyal customer of Sir Savingston’s for some time, and was happy with their meats, John decided to try the double sirloin, joined at the backbone he was now certain Baron von Savings was famous for. He searched the phone directory for the locations of all Baron von Savings stores, yielding surprising results—all of the stores were located relatively close to each other, in a neighborhood that was otherwise relatively abandoned. He chose the one outlet located in a neighborhood that he deemed acceptable, and set course.

The parking lot was empty, with no discernable lighting. All but one window was covered in plywood and the building appeared all but abandoned. Not deterred by this, John exited his vehicle and slowly made his way to the entrance. Inside, the incandescent light dimly lit the gray walls and concrete floor. Everything was eerily efficient, as employees worked at a quick, robotic pace. They were dressed in plain brown uniforms, each with a series of letters and numbers on the front and back. No employee was wearing shoes, save what appeared to be the manager, who was dressed in a very strict, clean uniform. John searched for the sirloin that he had come for, but was unable to find any resemblance of a meat department. In fact, there was no food in the store at all, rather shelves stocked with small boxes that read RATION in bold type on the front. Not knowing why this was so, and fearing for his safety, John quickly left. He believed that he was never supposed to see what he had just seen. Was he the only one? The store was open, so he couldn’t imagine that was true. Why doesn’t someone stop them? Those employees were obviously some type of slaves. John could still smell the scent of death and feet that nearly suffocated him in his short visit to Baron von Savings and took a shower, trying to forget what he had just saw, or, if possible, convince himself that it was a dream.

Unable to shake the images from inside the store out of his head, John decided to investigate further. Using very little effort, he obtained useful information about the Baron. Charlie Dignan, a phone company employee and long time friend to John, was able to obtain the phone number and address of the evil grocery tycoon. Using this small bit of information, John learned that Baron von Savings was born as Franz Spreckels in Nuremburg, Germany shortly after the end of WWII. He had grown up with a dual passion for groceries and the manner in which Hitler began WWII. He admired Hitler’s strict method, especially his penchant for simply taking what he wanted and intimidating the allied forces away from any initial action. Baron von Savings Grocery Store was the bastard child of these two passions, as the Baron embarked on the first ever grocery-based world domination scheme. Baron bought the chain of grocery stores (then called Sampson’s Groceryville) for a very low price, as the previous owners had been found guilty of having too much community influence and were forced to sell. Baron had plans to put all other grocery stores in the area (and eventually worldwide) out of business, using some of the same methods that Hitler had used years before. Before the competitors were to be exterminated, Baron would force them to produce various products bearing his name, to stock the shelves of his quickly expanding chain of stores.

All of this took John by surprise; it seemed like something taken from a ‘bad movie script.’ This new information, coupled with the incident at the store had left him curious enough to further research the topic online. After some serious digging he came across a series of emails, originally posted to an obscure newsgroup entitled “Baron von Savings Resistance Movement,” that detailed the Baron’s sinister plot. All messages abruptly stopped, however, just as it seemed the B.V.S.R.M. seemed to be getting close to their goal of bringing the baron down. John assumed the worst and immediately contacted the police. After speaking with several officers and detectives, it was clear that the Baron had bribed them to look the other way. Everyone that John talked to, including the FBI, wanted nothing to do with the case. One FBI detective went as far as to threaten John if he pursued the matter further. It seemed that most everyone was aware of the impending (and probably current) atrocities but chose not to acknowledge their existence. Disgusted by the apathy that was taking place, John decided to take things into his own hands. He was going to single handedly liberate the mass captives of the evil Baron von Savings, and hopefully end the stream of random thoughts and sleeplessness that now seemed to be the norm.

Through an anonymous tip, (apparently from a former high-ranking member of the Baron’s ‘army’) John learned that all of the stores were connected by an underground series of tunnels lined with prison cells, with a large common area for feeding and work. This explained the close proximity that that tied the stores together. The store that John had visited was a storage area for rations and other items necessary to sustain a large number of prisoners. It was kept open only for appearances, though John could not fathom why they would want ‘just anyone’ to see what was going on in there.

With some of the stress of living a life of failure off his shoulders, John was able to sleep well for the first time in days. He took every measure to ensure a good night of sleep, including a glass of milk (which he wasn’t particularly fond of.) His state of mind had improved so much over the past twenty-four hours that he also decided to listen to a bit of quiet music to help him to sleep. As he fell asleep, the newest hit by The Poops was being played for the third time in a row.

'Hey, hey we’re the Poops,

People say we’re soft and brown,

That’s only half of the story,

We also come in greenish-brown…'

John woke up the next morning, the infernal song still playing.

'That was The Poops with their new hit, ‘Hey, Hey,’ which we have been playing around the clock. Poops McTavish is here in the studio with us this morning to give a special message regarding colon and prostate health.'

McTavish: Did you know that ass-cancer is the leading killer of men in this country? That’s why I am here to inform you about our new tour, the ‘Bringing down the ass-cancer world tour.’ One-tenth of all proceeds will go to combat ass-cancer worldwide.

DJ: Well, thank you for stopping by, Poops. It really is an important cause that you have chosen to support, and I hope the best for you on the world tour.

McTavish: Well, you can’t have Poops without an ass, Kevin. We intend to save every single ass in America, or die trying.

John turned off the radio, ready to take care of business. His first course of action was to call the Baron under the guise of Sir Savingston, to lure him into certain demise. The plan was simple—make the Baron believe that Sir Savingston was prepared to sell all of his stores, and arrange a meeting between the Baron and himself, killing the Baron at the designated meeting place. The transcript from the initial phone call between John and the Baron is as follows:

Bruce: “Hello, Baron von Savings residence. This is Bruce.”

John: “Hello, good sir. I am the fabled Sir Savingston, and am interested in possibly selling my chain of stores to the Baron. Is he in?”

Bruce: “Oh, dear. The Baron will be quite happy to hear this, I will go get him, sweetheart.”

Bruce is heard calling to the Baron: “Baron, darling, there is someone on the phone for you. It is Sir Savingston, would you like to talk to him? Expletives can be heard, then a slapping noise, along with what seems to be a man weeping, most likely Bruce.

Baron: “Hello, dis iss zee Baron. Vhut can I do for you?

John: (laughing) “You sound pretty stupid, Baron.”

Baron: Excoose me? No sir, I believe dat you are zee stupid one here. Did you vant to talk zee business or insult me?

John: (still laughing, slightly) Yes, yes. I apologize. I am looking for a responsible person to sell my stores to. Since you have imprisoned most of my employees, I have chosen you. I would very much like to meet with you to discuss this further, possibly over lunch?

Baron: I believe dat loonch ees for zee weak, Mr. Savingston. You can meet me in zee park tomorrow at sree p.m. Is thees sounding okay?

John: Did you say ‘sree’ p.m.? You mean three? That sounds fine, Baron.

Baron: Yes, yes. I vill see you then.

Confidence overwhelmed John. His feelings of inadequacy were pushed aside, and he now had nearly everything he needed to bring down the Baron. He now began to devise a plan for actually eliminating the Baron. Feeling that this was best done through people who knew him personally, he waited outside the corporate headquarters, hoping to infiltrate the upper levels of the Baron’s regime to obtain information. Instead, he was greeted by two guards at the front door who were casually (and conveniently) talking about the Baron when he arrived. Hoping not to be seen, John crawled behind a nearby statue, an excellent vantage point for listening in on the guards’ conversation. For future reference, John assigned each of the guards a name, calling them ‘Chief’ and ‘Cheefer.’

Chief: I can’t believe no one has stopped this guy yet. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the pay is great. The benefits package is fabulous, too. I wouldn’t do it myself, but it surprises me that no one else has arrested or killed him yet.

Cheefer: Yeah, tell me about it. World grocery domination? Who does this guy think he is? Not to mention the fact that he walks around like he is actually German. I heard he was actually from Florida, or California. One of those warm, sunny states. What a fraud, eh?

Chief: No, he’s German all right. Born in Nuremburg after the war. I heard he was never really all there, and had some sort of obsession with groceries--his only weakness. If he sees an unorganized bag of groceries--one that is too heavy or unevenly packed—he has to fix it. You could be sitting there pointing a gun at his head and he wouldn’t care, he’d just keep re-bagging the groceries. I overheard him telling this to one of his aides one night while I was guarding his estate.

Chief: You were guarding his house?

Cheefer: Yeah, he used to have a few of us guard the place at night, but he stopped having us when some things turned up missing. Turns out one of the guys took some jewelry while the Baron was gone. He was called into the Baron’s office up at Headquarters the next day and never heard from again.

John finally had the information he needed to kill the Baron. He would buy several bags of groceries, (from the Baron himself, ironically, as all other grocery stores in the area had been closed at the Baron’s hands) bag them in an unorganized manner, and while the Baron was arranging their contents he would kill him using an old revolver, the only possession his father left him upon his death.

John ventured into the part of town that cradled the Baron’s chain of stores. He had avoided the neighborhood since the age of six, when his father dropped him off there alone, suggesting that he ‘sell himself’ to get along. His visit to the area had been short, however, as the police found him and took him home to his father. He was beaten severely on that day, and had not returned until now. His need to stop the Baron was greater than the strength of his fear, and he sighed a breath of relief. He hurried to fill his cart with enough items to fill several grocery bags, the Baron’s fatal trap. From Baron von Savings’ Evaporated Milk to Mama Baron’s Famous Pasta Sauce, the products all bore the same name, and a cryptic logo, which bore a striking resemblance to a swastika. Sickened by what he was seeing, John hurried to the checkout. Tomorrow was d-day.

Although The Poops had finally stopped playing on the radio to make way for The Space Invaderton’s new hit ‘Recon Mission #91: Let Me Put My Pulsar in Your Asteroid,’ John was unable to sleep, nervous about his impending showdown with the Baron. His plan was sound—he was to bring the groceries to the meeting. The Baron, seeing this, would be forced to rearrange them, giving John time to shoot him in the head. The Baron’s reign on the grocery business in the area would come to an end.

The next morning was quite cold; the park would most certainly be empty. John ate a light breakfast consisting of grits, bacon, and a cigarette. This was much more than his usual breakfast of a cigarette and glass of water, but he figured he could use the extra sustenance for his challenging day ahead. Over breakfast, he contemplated what he had gotten himself into; he was to kill a man in broad daylight on this day, under the guise of what is probably a fictional character, no less. He took a large drink from a bottle of Captain Ron’s Sour Mash Liquor and turned on the television.

Bad news. All bad news. It reminded him why he was so depressed in the first place (he considered himself a liar for thinking this, for his depression was purely based on the lack of sex he had been having lately.) Soon, none of these things would matter, because the Baron would be dead and there would finally be some good in the world (and hopefully his bed.)

John arrived at the park at 2:45pm, groceries in hand. At 2:53pm, he noticed a short man in a uniform, along with a man who, for all intensive purposes, was the gayest man that John had ever seen (and he claimed to have seen some ‘pretty gay men…not pretty pretty, but they were more gay than the average gay man.’) It was Baron von Savings and his friend Bruce. Not having accounted for the Baron’s ‘little gay friend,’ John had to think quickly, for he didn’t want to be responsible for killing two men. Reflexively, he yelled ‘Hey, look—it’s Jimmy Fallon!’ Before he finished the word ‘Fallon,’ Bruce was already prancing in the direction that he had pointed. It was now just John and the Baron.

“Sir Savingston, I presume?” said the Baron, coyly.

“Yes. I brought you a gift of groceries, as a token of thanks for taking these stores off of my hands.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t haff, you sveethea—“

The Baron, noticing the poorly bagged groceries, quickly leaped towards them. Before he had emptied the first bag, John put two bullets from the revolver through his chest. The Baron slumped to the ground slowly, gasping for air. He beckoned for John to come closer, as if he had something to say, whispering:

‘Tell Bruce dat I vill alvays…” and he was gone.

John quickly left, but not before he put both of the Baron’s hands down his pants, giggling. He went home and waited for the reaction that this mercenary action would cause in his community. Contrary to what he had hoped, the community was outraged. The low prices at Baron von Savings, regardless of the fact that they were the result of slave labor, were quite welcome in a struggling economy. The chief of police vowed to find the person responsible for the grizzly murder, and prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law. Since the death penalty was legal at the time, he knew that he was going to die no matter what he did. Although he was saddened by the fact that he would never actually see the liberation of the Baron’s prisoners, he had no choice but to take a bottle of sleeping pills and finish his Captain Ron’s. His body was found weeks later, with the revolver still in his pocket.

Later, Bruce found a condom that the Baron had used during intercourse with him, harvested the sperm, and found a donor womb to produce a little baron to love and raise himself. Had John been around to see it, he would have definitely likened it to a ‘bad movie script,’ now with potential for a sequel.