Aisle 4

“Wow, check out that one!” Marcia pointed to the monitor, displaying aisle 4. He was dressed in a brightly colored, sequin-covered jumpsuit with ruffles at the collar and sleeves. His makeup was dried and cracking, the colors barely recognizable.
“Grab the camera, I gotta get a shot of this.” I grabbed a pistol and a couple of clips, just in case. We held our breath as we approached the aisle, careful not to alert him to our presence. He smelled as bad as be looked, like hot garbage, or a wet dog. I cringed at the though of getting any closer, but we had to get proof. No one would believe this.
“Now!” I dove at him and spun him around, barely able to keep him still enough for the couple seconds we had for photography. He was snarling and biting at me, but I shoved him down as we escaped.
“Bout time you got back, it’s time for me to go home. Where were you guys, anyway?” Dean asked as we arrived back in the security booth.
“Drag queen, aisle 4.”

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