Aventures in Radio Shack

John Smith stood behind the desk of the local Radio Shack, ready for action.
He had his preprogrammed catch phrase commited to memory.
He had his eyes fixed on the door.
He had every psychosis known to man.
Every so often some poor unsuspecting soul would walk through the
door, and Smith would be ready.
He would rush up to them and spew out a well-rehearsed "Welcome to
Radio Shack, how may I help you?", careful not to run them over this
time.
He had to be certain not to mess this one up. The boss had told him
that one more slip up and he'd be fired for sure.
The infamous lunchbag rocket launcher incident had been the last straw
for poor old Mr. Weildermeyer, a balding 64 year old in a full-body
exoskeleton with a heart condition.
One more slip up...
Suddenly an array of blinking LED's lit up on Smith's jerry-rigged
security grid. A potential customer was approaching.
Tensing his every muscle, Smith prepared to leap towards the door.
The doorknob clicked.
Smith launched himself forward.
Too soon!
The door swinging partly open, Smith slammed into one side, as the
customer pushed on the other in mid stride.
The would-be customer was pitched backwards clear off the landing,
crashing into the pavement with a metallic clang.
METALLIC clang?
Smith warily peaked around the corner of the door at the steaming Mr.
Weildermeyer.
His exoskeleton was mangled and a throbbing red vein in his temple was
threatening to explode.
"I'll go get my stuff I guess...", murmered Smith.
TBC...
--
BEWARE THE RABBIT!