Supply and Demand
By Gumnut
21 Jul 2004

He dashed into the supermarket, his harried state raising several eyebrows as he almost leapt over the entry turnstile. He ignored them all.

“Where, Kitt?”

“Aisle 15.”

His eyes tracked the signage, ticking off numbers and products. Ducking down the specified aisle, he found himself in the appropriate section.

He scanned brand names and packaging. This, that, and everything but what he was looking for.

“Kitt, I can’t see it.”

The voice that came over the comlink had infinite patience engraved in its tone. “Third bay along, second shelf from the top, seventh container from the left.” Aggravated sigh. “Please hurry, Michael, I have been located.”

He counted bays and shelves, finally his hand coming to rest on a spray can. Damn, you’d think they’d label it clearly. He held it near the comlink. “You sure, Kitt?”

“Of course, Michael.” Pause. “I can contact Devon now if you like.”

“NO!” A woman passing by him jumped at his yelp before frowning severely in his direction. “No. No, Kitt, I said I’d do it, and I’m doing it. Keep your hubcaps on.”

“I had no intention of taking them off. Just hurry.”

Glancing at the container in his hand one more time, he almost ran the length of the aisle, bounding towards an open checkout. Of course, an elderly woman with an overflowing trolley beat him to it. Such was his life at this particular moment in time.

Damnit.

He scanned the rather impressive array of checkout bays, of which only two were currently manned, both clogged with customers.

Damn.

“Michael, I’m afraid you may be too late. I should call Devon.”

“Damnit, Kitt. I said I’d do it.” The look the obstructing elderly lady gave him clearly doubted his sanity. He frowned slightly at her and she looked away. So what if he was talking into his digital watch? It’s a free country.

If only she would get out of his way.

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It took a while, but eventually he escaped the queue with both his life and the required product. His sanity however had been left at the counter along with that of the shop assistant’s when as Michael handed over his payment, Kitt chose to urge him on a little more. He guessed that the poor man didn’t get handed what appeared to be a talking credit card very often.

He burst into the parking lot, scanning for his partner. Kitt had virtually thrown him out the door upon arrival and he had no idea where he had gotten to since.

He shouldn’t have bothered. A familiar whine crept up behind him, and before he could react, a black prow had caught him behind the back of his knees. Sitting down rather hard, he glared at the Trans Am. “Ha-ha, Kitt, very funny.”

“I thought so.” Pause. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Michael glared at him. “For the other shoe to drop.”

“It was a simple request, Michael.”

“Accompanied by blackmail. And where are all these so called intruders anyway?”

“At the edge of my scanner range, you can never be too careful.”

“Kitt, your scanner range is measured in miles.”

“And my patience with this matter in seconds. If you hadn’t delayed so long, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such tactics. Now, please, Devon’s waiting.”

Michael’s glare intensified, wondering where exactly Kitt had discovered this new talent. It had only been a small charge to his expense account, a little dinner, wine and dine, pleasant company, something that Devon would be unlikely to notice – unless it was pointed out to him. Michael had never even considered the possibility that he was dating himself into a life of servitude.

He frowned, Kitt never forgot anything.

How many times he was going to pay for this one? He could see a future decorated in classical music and logic games.

With a defeated sigh he crouched down and began spraying Kitt’s wheels with the newly purchased dog repellent. Sometimes life was just hard.

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FIN.