Paxety Pages

 She strolled into the store with a 10-year child in tow, used her eyes to toss daggers at Dorothy and Renee in checkout, and turned to Walter at the customer service desk. Now Walter's day job is as a chef at a posh Ponte Vedra Beach club where his polite deference is as valued as his cooking.

 "WHY WON'T YOU SEND MY FAX," questioned Godzilla.

 "Ma'am, we send faxes from the copy center …"

 "I WANT TO SEE THE MANAGER - WHO THE HELL IS THE DAMN MANAGER," she says as she stalks through the buildings of Tokyo represented by on-sale merchandise to look at the photos of the managers on the wall.

 "ALLEN DAMMIT. THAT'S WHO I WANT. WHERE THE HELL'S ALLEN."

 Little Allen, who stands about five feet four, bravely walked up to Godzilla and stood under her.

 "I'm Allen. What can I do for you, ma'am," he asked in his normal soft voice. His Japanese mother would be proud of the politeness he was about to show in the face of wildness.

 " I WANT TO SEND MY FAX AND I WANT TO KNOW IT GOT THERE AND YOU'RE GOING TO CALL WASHINGTON, DC AND BE SURE IT GOT THERE."

 Dorothy and Renee in checkout began to giggle.

 "WHY THE HELL HAVEN'T YOU SENT IT YET. WHERE IS THE FAX MACHINE? I'LL SEND THE DAMN THING MYSELF."

 "Ma'am, we don't have self-service fax machines. I'll take you to the copy center and have them send your fax. Then we'll call to be sure it got there," said Little Allen.

 And off they march to the copy center where Br'er Juan is wholly unaware of the monster's approach.

 Godzilla sits down at a table between two self-service copiers, the table filled with staplers, white out, scissors, post-it notes, paper clips and other stuff for folks to use to jam the self-service copiers and generally cause Br'er Juan headaches. Little Allen walks away and leaves them alone.

 "I NEED A DAMN COVER SHEET FOR MY FAX, " she bellows while snorting flames in Br'er Juan's direction. Two young women at a self-service copier give her a cautious look.

 Br'er Juan gives her a bit of the prison stare and says "The cover sheets are on the table on the other side of the copier. Godzilla glares, waves around seven or eight sheets of paper, and flaps her arms like a buzzard escaping the highway just in advance of an 18-wheeler. Br'er Juan gives her a bit more of the stare and says, "It won't walk over here by itself -you have to get one." With a nod of her scary tri-colored head, Godzilla dispatches her young for a cover sheet.

 "WELL IT'S ALL THAT DAMN ALLEN'S FAULT. IF HE WASN'T SO RUDE AND SUCH AN IDIOT."

 Little Allen pops from behind a shelf loaded with paper and asks "Ma'am, is there something else I can do for you?"

 Godzilla launches a stapler in his direction, turns to Br'er Juan and asks, 'HOW MUCH WILL IT COST TO SEND THIS - ABOUT A DOLLAR?" She still waves seven or eight sheets of paper, but allows no one to look at them.

 Br'er Juan, remembering the Preacher Man's admonition that God had given him this job to learn patience, politely says, "Well, it depends on whether it's local or long distance."

 "LOCAL OR LONG DISTANCE. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT. WHAT AN IDIOT. THIS WHOLE PLACE IS FULL OF IDIOTS. ESPECIALLY ALLEN. AND YOU. HOW CAN YOU BE SO STUPID."

 Godzilla renews her attack on Tokyo by throwing the stuff from the table.

 Br'er Juan begins climbing over the counter.

 The two young women at the self-service copier take cover behind a filing cabinet display.

 "I'M LEAVING YOU IDIOTS," she announces as she gathers her young and heads for the door.

 "Good-bye, " sings Br'er Juan joyfully.

 Godzilla makes her final sweep through the city, knocking paper off a display at the front of the store, and swinging past the checkout. Dorothy and Renee stare in fear.

 "HAVE A NICE DAY."

 Dorothy and Renee laugh out loud as Godzilla, followed by her young, turns through the front doors and heads out to sea.