A-tisket, a-tasket

“A-tisket, a-tasket, just try to steal my basket.
If you do, I promise you, you’ll soon be in a casket.”

Emily wasn’t serious about the casket part, it just rhymed. And the basket was the grocery bag swinging from her left hand holding food, and a note, for her invalid grandmother. It was a replacement for the food she was carrying yesterday when a boy snatched the bag and did a rabbit down the street.

But today she was ready. Her right hand was in her coat pocket, fingering a bag of rotten eggs, preparing to douse anyone who’d try to steal from her.

Her eyes scanned the sidewalks ahead. Then she spotted him, across the street, the same thieving boy. Then he spotted her. Immediately, he dashed into the street, jumping side to side avoiding traffic, and heading right towards her.

Emily tightened the grip on the grocery bag while her right hand slipped from the pocket, holding an egg. When the boy was ten feet away, Emily hurled the weapon, splattering it in the center of his chest. In a second, she had launched another and already had a third ready to go.

“Wait. Stop.” the boy shouted. “I’m trying to return your stuff.”

Emily paused, arm cocked.

“I read the note you wrote for your grandma and I felt so bad. I wanted to deliver the food, but I didn’t know where she lived.” He opened his backpack and showed Emily yesterday’s food bag. “I’ve been looking for you all morning to return the groceries. I’m really sorry. Please, no more eggs. I smell like a garbage dump.”

Emily studied the boy for a minute, then returned the egg to her pocket.

“Come on, I’m sure Grandma will let you use her shower.”