quicklog -- mikey/evie: costo disaster
[Mikey was in superhero mode. Chest puffed, shoulders squared, the six-foot-two, 210lb firefighter beelined through the disgustingly packed Costco. (Why was it so packed, why don't people do their shopping before, duh doy. It wasn't rocket science. Even Mikey could figure that out.) He had been back at the firehouse, doing the usual: playing video games, messing around with Captain, dressing up with Daisy. And then, the distress call came through. Only, it wasn't the kind he was waiting for; it was from Evie, stuck at a big ass grocery store on the day before America's birthday. So, he had to play rescue.
Barreling through the throngs of people with a bag of family-sized Doritos Cool Ranch under one arm and a grin on his face, he had a little girl, no older than two, bouncing on his shoulders. Giggling like a maniac. He was giggling too, laughing and making sure there was an extra bounce in his step as he held onto her tiny body with his large hand. After careening through carts and fist-fighting shoppers, he finally spotted Evie's small frame traffic jammed along with everyone else.]
Oh my goooddddd, this is like what Times Square gotta look like at Christmas. [His voice carried over the din of shouts and anger loud and clear as he climbed over two crashed carts with a bright, bright grin. Practically wagging his tail. Daisy, for her part, had a small firefighter's helmet on and a stuffed puppy in her hand. Grinning, too.]