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| - Jim was perusing the table festooned with $3.00 sunglasses. The desert wind blew with periodic gusts, causing the blue tarps to flap as if trying to free themselves from their bonds. He was startled by the electrical crackling sounds coming from the parking area which surrounded the Mesa Swap Meet.
Jim approached one of the openings to the parking area, brushing past a shuffling old woman pushing a companion in a wheelchair they had probably rented upon arrival. Peering out into the lot Jim could see that a small portal to another dimension had obviously opened near a pearl-toned Escalade. It was doubtless caused by the obscene pretentiousness of the vehicle coupled with the douchbaginess of the owner. The fabric of the universe rebelled against such things.
A pit-bull sized creature with a gaping toothless maw and shiny flat patches where eyes should have been faced an elderly man with a handmade cane, likely purchased moments before. The being emitted a brief low tone and the man collapsed in a heap. Another creature emerged and dragged the man into the portal. Jim uttered a quiet, "Not good." to no one in particular and surveyed the nearby tables for useful items. Looking beyond ten or so tables would be unnecessary as the booths seemed to repeat at that sequence.
He dashed past the socks and purses to the leather vendor and began suiting up as if for battle. Perhaps the leather skull cap coupled with the big hearing-protective ear muffs he saw in the next booth would dull whatever sonic attack the creature had. Next came the chaps, leather vest, gauntlet gloves and safety glasses. As he headed to the booth offering medieval weaponry Jim decided he had certainly enjoyed fantasies when he was younger that featured similar outfits save for the safety gear. Jim smirked as he heard the Village's People's "YMCA" in his mind.
Jim picked up a bottle of cheap perfume as he was passing a booth selling such items. Might come in handy as well. Same for the stack of metal Red Sox license plates and the 3 x 8 southwest styled runner that he grabbed. He was vaguely aware that people were running away through the wide aisles of the Swap Meet and there was an occasional scream, but his focus was unflappable.
He gazed over the assortment of murderous instruments offered by the vendor. What a delightful array of weapons both blunt and bladed. He briefly palmed the broadsword. Too heavy. The nunchucks? Fast, yes, but limited in range. Ahh, the samurai sword. Good. Throwing stars. Marvelous!
The alien pit-bull creature was ranging farther now, preying on the many slow-moving geriatrics that populated the market. A security golf cart was overturned not far from the Escalade, one of its upturned wheels spinning slowly. Jim left the cover of the market and walked toward the creature as it moved in a peculiar rhythmic gait toward a polyester-clad woman with the largest mound of grey hair Jim had seen in years. He flicked a star, hard, at the creature's midsection. It narrowly missed, clanging as it sunk into the hubcap of an El Camino. "Never liked those anyway", Jim mumbled as he sunk behind a jeep, peering through the undercarriage to assess the creature's reaction. It stood immobile, its head slowly scanning left and right in Jim's direction.
Jim launched the eau de toilette at the top of the El Camino. It shattered against the doorframe and showered glass and liquid on and around the creature. It dashed to the center of the row and began whirling around and making what Jim surmised were sneezing noises. He arose and flung several stars at it as he rapidly closed the distance. Only one struck home, digging deep into the creature's hind quarters. It whirled once more and stood to face him.
A low tone began inside Jim's head. "How the hell was it doing that?" Jim's knees grew weak. As he fought collapse he remembered the metal license plates he tucked into the back of his waistband. Pulling them out, he flung several with a spinning motion at the creature as he shouted, "Go Red Sox!"
Two flew harmlessly past the creature but the third struck the beast edge on, just above one of it's ... eyes? The low tone vanished and Jim regained his composure. The brute lunged at Jim. He slid to one side and brought the sword down across the back of the thing's neck. It fell limply forward, trying in vain to face it's enemy. The other creature emerged from behind a car, faced Jim, and then dashed into the rift, which began to shrink. Jim knelt beside the dying creature with his ever- present sharpie. He carefully wrote the word FAIL across it's leathery back, wrapped it in the runner and tossed it into the waning opening.
The aroma of the hot dogs cooking at the snack bar wafted out to Jim as he urinated into the dimensional opening, hoping he would finish his business before it closed completely. He texted his wife, "Meet me at snk br" as he walked back into the market. "K" she replied
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