Tuckamore Bay

Harry Tucker

Tucker's General Store was next to Tucker's Gas and Garage, which was next to Tucker's Motel.

Bill sat in his truck cab and looked at the three buildings.

"Not exactly a metropolis."

He looked around the parking lot. The only vehicles there were a black SUV and as luck would have it, the old green Ford truck.

"Fucking figures."

He rummaged through a duffle bag on the front seat and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt.

Quickly he pulled off his running shoes and his wet jeans and pulled on the sweat pants.

He had just pulled off the wet t-shirt when two young women, around twenty years old, walked out of the General Store.

They both whistled at him and smiled, as they got into the black SUV. As they pulled across in front of him, they both whistled again and blew him kisses.

Bill waved back, forcing a smile.

"Hi. I'm your new neighbour. I know you must think I'm a pervert because I am sitting in my truck, in front of a General Store with no shirt on. As far as you lovely ladies know, I am naked from the waist down."

As the SUV pulled off the parking lot, its horn sounded and Bill could hear the two young women screaming in delight.

Bill waved out his window, though he doubted they could see him.

"Nice to meet you. I hope we never meet again because I will turn blood red and spontaneously combust."

Bill quickly pulled on the dry, white t-shirt.

"Fuck, I'm an asshole."

He leaned forward and put his head on the steering wheel.

"Why didn't I just go to Jamaica?"

Bill started the truck again and pulled up closer to the General Store. He quickly put on his running shoes and jumped out of the truck. He sprinted up the stairs to the front door and opened it.

"What the fuck?"

The wonderful paint job on the outside of the General Store was a overwhelming contrast to the starkness and darkness, of the inside of the store.

Bill stood in silence looking around the building.

"You have got to be kidding me."

It was a poorly lit building that smelled of either salt air or dead animals. Or both. Bill really wasn't sure. But he was sure that it was a smell that he was totally unfamiliar with.

There were three rows of wooden shelving, that lined the main part of the store.

Bill slowly walked down the first row, looking at the neat rows of canned goods, some with labels he had never seen before. He picked up a can of peas. There was no expire date on the can.

"This thing should be in a museum," Bill exclaimed.

"I think the company that made this brand went out of business in the 1980s."