Fan Fiction: First-Hand Accounts

Gangsters and Groceries
by Corey Christopher

  We hopped into a cab and arrived at the back of the warehouse, only to find it unlocked and unguarded. It was as if we had had a path cleared by The Shadow, which wasn't uncommon because he could be working the case with us somewhere ahead. I was wondering where the usual tell-tale signs, like unconscious criminals and spent rounds were - that usually showed his path. But none of those were there, and it made me all the more cautious. Lamont Cranston on the other hand, seemed completely indifferent to the whole matter. I wanted to tell him to take a little more care when on assignment, but just as I was about to open my mouth he produced a list out of thin air and told me that the items on it were what we were after. He handed it to me and I perused it. I was shocked! It was a grocery list! It was a very specific grocery list, but a grocery list nonetheless! He must have seen the look on my face for he laughed and said, "It looks like our assignment isn't as danger-packed as it would seem." I shot him a quick "Well-at-least-you're-not-going-to-get-shot" glance and proceeded to find the items on the list.

  The warehouse was indeed an old long-forgotten grocery store, and was mostly stocked with leftover cans and other preservatives. While I was searching for the items, since Lamont had probably never been in a grocery store in his life with all those servants, I occasionally stole a peek in his direction and found a smug smile on his face despite the far-off look in his eyes. "How can he be so smug about this whole thing?" I thought to myself, as I found the first item of the list. I looked at the list and it said 5th jar from the front. When I pulled it out and shined the flashlight on the pickle jar, I noticed something reflective on one of the pickles.

  "Did you see that?" I stammered. He shook his head.

  "Do you think the Boss will mind if we open this?" I said as I was already opening the jar.

  "Doubt it," he replied with a chuckle.

  I was holding the flashlight and pickle jar with both hands, so I transferred the light to Cranston and began fishing around in the jar with my fingers. That wasn't working at all and I couldn't grasp the slippery pickles.

  "Do you have a…"

  "Knife?" he interrupted, handing one to me.

  "This is getting weird," I mumbled.

  "Hmmm?" he said as if he didn't hear me.

  "I think there's something in here besides pickles!" I located the shiny object which was barely protruding from one of the pickles. I chopped up the pickle only to find it loaded with diamonds! I pulled out another only to find that they were all stuffed with jewels! This one jar alone must contain millions!

  "We have to find the rest of that list NOW!" he said in a commanding tone that I had never heard from him before.

  We raced down the aisles at a frantic pace, driven by determination and that tone of voice ringing in my ears. It took all of my effort to run at that speed and locate precise objects without getting trampled by Lamont. We had now found all of the groceries except one item, and by now I was carrying and armload of assorted oddities. It looked like I had mugged an old lady for her Thanksgiving supplies! I managed to fish out the list and saw that the last item was a 50 pound sack of potatoes.

  "WHAT?!" I raged, "Like we don't have enough to carry already!"

  We found the potato aisle and we noticed that the rest of the bags were old and had sprouted eyes, while our bag was new and sitting on the top-most shelf. I gently set down all of my items and before I knew it I had climbed up to the sixth shelf. Since my associate was hardly carrying anything, I kiddingly yelled "CATCH, " and he put his arms out.

  "You do know that this is a 50 pound sack of potatoes don't you?" I quipped.

  "Just hurry," he said with an eye roll. I pushed the bag off the shelf with some effort and he caught it like it had been a sack of marshmallows!

  After I climbed back down and picked up everything but the potatoes, I looked at him and said mischievously, "What's that Mr. Cranston? You want to carry the potatoes? Oh you're such a gentleman!" He laughed and offered to carry more, but I insisted sarcastically that holding the flashlight was important enough.