"What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end"

There comes a time in a man’s life where he must choose between living life as a whimpering fool or being bold, balling up his fist, and fighting for the right to live as a man. Many of us will never be put in a situation like that, but others, like Jack Harrow, they must make that fateful decision and live with the consequences…

It was snowing on Christmas Eve in Olan, Michigan and there was a rumor on the radio that there was one mythical can of cranberry sauce left in the whole state. Jack Harrow wasn’t a particular fan of cranberry sauce, but his wife was, and it was Christmas and there had to be cranberry sauce on Christmas. So, he set out a couple hours before lunch to try and find the can for the family dinner that night. The roads were slick as glass and a blind man had better visibility, but Jack trudged on, not for the love of his wife, more so he wouldn’t have to hear that nagging about having ruined Christmas by forgetting cranberry sauce when he was out buying the ham the other day.

It took 25 minutes just to make it 5 miles down the road, but Jack finally pulled into the tiny parking lot of Eddie & Mae’s discount convenient store. Even though the exterior of the building suggested a quaint old fashioned convenient store it was really just a nationwide chain. Eddie & Mae’s was a mom and pop chain actually owned by Amir and Mahjub Rahman, entrepreneur brother refugees from Iran that had both fled the country to live the American dream of rock and roll and blond haired, blue eyed, big tittied chicks. In order to eventually become the music moguls they wanted to be, they set up the discount chains. The deal was they jacked up prices from other chain grocery stores, but provided that down home country feel modern America seemed to be missing. Jack Harrow found the last cobweb and dust covered can of cranberry sauce with a $7 price tag attached.

The store was empty except for a bored cashier girl, and silent except for the pinging of her cell phone. Another gentleman had entered the store wearing a long trench coat and a toboggan. Jack, figuring the man was after the same cranberry sauce, crooked his hand, and put the can close to his body to shield it from view. However, the man stepped to the counter and pulled out a small pistol, aimed it at the cashier and asked for the all the money. The young girl behind the counter had been loudly smacking her gum and sending text messages; her two thumbs zipping across the key pad of her Blackberry. Annoyed, she hopped off her stool, rolled her eyes, and with heavy, pounding movements, opened the cash drawer.

The man turned and faced Jack, pointing the gun at him, and warning him not to try any funny business. Jack stuck both hands straight up in the air with the cranberry sauce resting on his palm like a golden display trophy. The gunman, upon seeing the sauce, licked his lips, and poked Jack in the tummy for the tart treat. The cashier, as if the money weighed hundreds of pounds, slammed the cash on the counter.

Even though yellow piss was running down Jack’s leg, he did not give up the can, instead, used his body as a shield to hide it from the grubby paws of the filthy gunman. The gunman, displeased, cocked his gun. In a split second, Jack made the decision to go from ordinary man to that of super hero. He took the can in his fist and hurled it at the gunman, pegging him square between the eyes, then with all his middle-aged might, tackled the man into the ice cream display. The cashier, wisely, took out her camera phone and snapped pics to e-mail to her blog. In the fracas, the gun went off. The gunman, seeing what had happened, fled the scene, leaving behind both money and cranberry sauce. The cashier was in nursing school, and quickly made Jack comfortable, and applied pressure to the gun wound in his arm to stop the blood flow. The bullet had grazed Jack’s arm and burned more than bled, but poor Jack thought it was a mortal wound. By the time the authorities arrived, the girl had just about everything taken care of for Jack except the actual stitching, he was taken to the hospital where the wound was stitched and his wife picked him up to take him to dinner with the family.

The whole way home she nagged him about trying to be a big man and how he’d ruined Christmas by getting shot. Jack slumped against the window of the car with his chin in his hand and watched the snow falling down. The cops had taken the cranberry sauce, for evidence they said. They confiscated it for the good of the case, they said with a smile, but deep down Jack knew those pigs were eating his cranberry cause and having themselves a merry Christmas at his expense.