Barry looked out his window. It had been a long time since he had left the house. Of course, he had gone outside, into his backyard or onto the roof, but that wasn't the same as actually leaving the house. Facing the world was different, and facing the world was what he would have to do today. He had run out of food. The delivery boy from Oak Crest Market was on vacation and Barry would have to go shopping for himself.

He would have to go to the store.

Barry looked at himself in the mirror for a long time. He didn't know it, but he was very handsome. He was 31, a little under six feet tall with shoulder-length, light brown hair and sad-looking grey-green eyes. His body was in good shape from lifting weights and swimming and playing tag. This morning, he shaved and pulled his hair back in a ponytail.

Nine months ago, he had been released from the care of the state, from the "loony bin," as he called it when he was talking to the kids, and was on his own again for the first time in three years. He lived alone in a big house in the Hollywood Hills, where his eccentricities went unnoticed by everyone but the kids.

Unlike the adults in the neighborhood, the kids saw Barry all the time, even though their parents told them not to. They would come play for hours with all the neat toys they had set up in his playroom, and his living room, and his basement, and his bedroom, and his attic, and anywhere else they wanted.

There's nothing scary about the store, Barry told himself. Now stop being an idiot and get going.

He left the house and walked toward the six covered cars that lined his driveway. Although he hadn't driven them for months, he kept them in good condition. His father had drilled enough business sense into his head to teach him how to protect an investment.

Barry uncovered and got into the last car in the line, a red Porsche that Carl had recommended as being "the coolest car in the world." Though Carl was only ten, he had yet to steer Barry wrong. For Barry, $60,000 for a new Porsche was nothing. His father had left him two million dollars, in addition to the house. The interest alone was more money than Barry could ever hope to spend.

The Porsche was the only car that still had a stereo in its dashboard. The other five had been broken into and looted long ago, but he had never called the police. His desire to get back his stereos was nothing compared to his fear of the police seeing how he lived.

As afraid as Barry was of the police, he would always be more afraid of women.

"They're a bunch of lying, cheating, manipulative bitches," his father had told him one drunken day, long after he had kicked Barry's mom out of the house. "You can't trust 'em worth a shit and the sooner you learn to stay the hell away from them, the better off you'll be."

Barry fastened his seat belt, started the car, pressed the remote control and looked at the street outside the electric gate. He couldn't see more than a hundred feet in either direction on the narrow, twisted road. He headed out slowly, closed the gate and drove away.

Oak Crest Market was at the bottom of his hill, but Barry didn't want to risk being seen by anyone in the neighborhood. Instead, he got on the freeway and headed west, driving erratically, slowing to 45, then accelerating to 80 just in case anyone was trying to follow him. He took a random offramp and drove slowly on unfamiliar streets.

He passed several fast food places, but he knew he could never eat at a drive-through again. His father had died of a heart attack from eating so much junk food.

Barry had eaten fast food twice in the last year. The first time had been a burger from some drive-through place. His heart palpitated and he threw up. The second time he ordered a pizza delivery. Again, Barry felt death creeping up on him. He passed out and was sick for a week. He felt lucky to have survived and would never try a third time.

He found a store. Ralphs. He pulled into the parking lot, almost entirely empty, and parked in the farthest spot from the store, beneath a large tree. He figured the shade would protect the paint job, and parking so far from the store would also give him time to plan out his next move.

He was about to get out of the car when he realized:

Wait a minute! My neighbors already know that I never go to the local store, so they probably won't even bother looking for me there. What if they figure out I came here? Yeah, but how would they figure that out unless...

Unless they followed me!

He spun around quickly, looking to see if anyone new had pulled into the lot. Lately, the neighbors had been driving pretty slowly whenever they passed his house. Maybe they were just pretending to be careful of the dangerous curves when they were really spying on him. Now that he thought about it, he had seen the old man across the street looking through a new telescope just the other day.

He looked around the parking lot again. No new cars were there, as far as he could tell. Of course, if it was the man with the telescope, he could be anywhere.

His thoughts were interrupted by a pigeon landing on his windshield wiper. It cocked its head and seemed to wink at Barry.

Animals like me, Barry thought.

The bird flew away.

Barry frowned.

A squirrel jumped out of the tree and landed on the shiny red hood of the car.

Uh-oh, Barry thought, I hope it doesn't get scratched.

Another squirrel landed, this one on the roof. The second squirrel started chasing the first squirrel all over the car, definitely scratching the paint.

"That's enough of that." Barry honked the horn and scared the two squirrels away.

The pigeon came back and went to the bathroom on Barry's hood. It then landed next to the mess and stared at Barry defiantly.

"Stupid bird." He honked his horn, but the pigeon didn't move. "Stupid, awful bird... I don't like birds."

He was about to honk again when a slick Siamese cat with blue ears and a blue tail came screeching out of the tree. The cat pounced on the pigeon, tearing it apart, and scratching the hood even worse than the squirrels. Soon, there was blood and feathers all over the windshield. Barry honked, but the cat wouldn't stop.

"Hey!" he jumped out of the car.

The cat was gone. The bird was gone. The car was spotless. Barry closed his eyes and counted to ten.

When he opened them, everything seemed okay. His car looked fine and no one was watching him. He locked the car and slammed the door.

As Barry walked across the giant parking lot, the store got bigger. It was actually growing. Barry stopped and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the store had grown even larger -- as though it were alive, as though it were hungry. Even with all that food inside, it was still hungry. It wanted Barry to come inside -- right now.

He turned around and looked at his car, far away, on the other side of the enormous, flat parking lot. The day was hot and the sun reflected off the warm asphalt. There seemed to be steam rising everywhere.

Barry felt very thirsty. And hungry. He looked back at the store, even larger now, leaning toward him menacingly. "I need food," he mumbled to himself. "But I am not going in that store."

Then, he saw the answer -- an old, Mexican woman walking out of the store. Her hair was pinned up, her eyes looked tired and a heavy-duty bra showed beneath her white T-shirt. She was carrying a bag of groceries in each arm.

He walked over to her quickly. She looked frightened. He picked up his pace so he could get over to tell her that he meant no harm. She too started walking faster, adjusting her path to avoid him, hurrying behind a car to slow him down. He reached out and stopped her with his hand just as she was about to get into a old VW Bug.

"Excuse me," he said, out of breath. "I guess I caught you just in time."

She looked terrified. "I don't want nothing," she said with a thick accent.

Barry realized she was having trouble communicating and that he'd better get to the point.

"Don't worry," he said in his most reassuring voice. "Don't worry about a thing. Do you mind if I just see your receipt?" He smiled politely, eagerly.

"No, no... I don't want nothing... It's okay, yes?"

"Yes, yes. It's okay. It's just fine," he leaned over her, smiling, wondering why she wouldn't calm down. "If I could only see your receipt..." He reached for one of her bags.

"Please, no," she said, pulling the bags away and putting them in her car.

"Wait a minute. You don't seem to understand. I am about to offer you a great deal. You could make some good money." He made another grab at the closest bag. "You see, I don't want to go in the store today..."

She started yelling. "Get away from me! Leave me alone!" She hit him in the chest and pushed him away. "No more!"

She jumped in her car, locked the door and started the engine. She drove a safe distance away, rolled down her window and yelled, "You bastard... Son of a bitch!"

Barry ran and hid behind another car, certain she would try to him run him down. "I hate women," he said to himself as she sped off.

Barry saw a young man in a jogging suit with a shopping cart full of groceries, coming out of the tiny automatic door at the bottom right corner of the giant store. He considered talking to him, but realized that this man had probably seen the whole incident with that crazy Mexican woman and wouldn't want anything to do with Barry's proposition.

Barry watched the man drive away, then sat on a small curb and waited for the next customer. He looked up at the store, positive that it was somehow watching him, through cameras maybe. He could hear the machinery humming within the store, and on top of the roof, and he could even hear what sounded like a heartbeat, distant, muffled, but there. The giant "Ralphs" sign looked twisted and warped. The heartbeat seemed to quicken. The machinery was getting louder, cranking and turning and grinding.

Just as Barry was about to get the hell out of there, he heard the automatic door open. The store released a woman, about his age, pushing a cart full of groceries. She was in her mid-thirties, with short brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a pretty face. She wore a short dress that revealed her thin legs. Barry didn't want to deal with any more women, but his stomach was empty and growling and he couldn't wait much longer.

He stood quickly and walked over to her as politely as he could, praying that she wouldn't scream or panic like the first woman. He would have to be brief and to the point.

"Excuse me." He walked up beside her.

"Yes?"

"I'm not dangerous. I swear to God, I'm not dangerous. So don't worry about that. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She glanced at his clothing -- expensive Italian loafers and a grey wool suit he had ordered from a Brooks Brothers catalogue. She studied his clean hands and face, his well-groomed hair and fingernails, then asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is... John."

"John what?"

He looked at her for a moment, unable to think, then blurted out, "John Bond."

"What, like James Bond?" She smiled.

"Yeah... Just like James Bond, but it's not. It's John, not James." He laughed nervously, much too loud, and her smile disappeared.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I really don't have time to go into the store, but I need some groceries. I was wondering if maybe I could buy yours."

She stared in disbelief. He peeked into her bags, trying to see what she had bought. Too much red meat, but she had nonfat milk, and chicken, and vegetables and a few other things he could probably cook up.

"Are you kidding?" she asked. "You want to buy my groceries?"

"Yes. Please. You see, I'm kind of in a hurry. I'll pay you extra. I'll pay you more than you paid for the groceries yourself, if I can just see your receipt."

"No."

"No, what? I can't see your receipt or I can't buy your groceries?"

"Why don't you just buy your own?"

"I told you. I'm in a hurry."

"Didn't I see you sitting on the curb when I came out? You were just sitting there, looking at the store."

"Yes. Yes, but... I was waiting for someone to come out. I figured it would be faster."

She didn't say anything. She just stood and looked at Barry, intrigued, not scared.

"Okay," he said. "If I can't see your receipt, will you at least tell me how much you paid?"

"I don't know. Seventy-five dollars, maybe. Something less than eighty."

"Seventy-five? Okay, I'll give you a hundred and fifty."

"I don't understand."

"What's not to understand? I'll give you a hundred and fifty dollars for your groceries. You'll make seventy-five dollars. You can just go back in and buy some more."

She smiled at him, confused.

"What's the matter?" he asked, flustered.

"I don't understand you. Why don't you just go into the store?"

"I told you. I'm in a hurry."

"You are not."

"Yes, I am. Honestly."

He wasn't getting anywhere. It was time to try some of his father's business tactics.

"Look," he explained in a firm, businesslike voice. "I'm offering you a hundred and fifty bucks. That's seventy-five profit for you. Take it or leave it."

She stopped looking concerned and started looking annoyed.

"I don't need your money." She turned and walked away.

Barry spun around in the giant lot, confused and scared. The Bottom Line! She hadn't gone for the Bottom Line!

He ran after her.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Barry stammered. "I didn't mean to be rude. I just wanted to buy your groceries and you wouldn't let me. I didn't know what to do."

"You want my groceries?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Tell me why you won't go into the store."

"I told you already..."

"Good-bye." She walked away again.

"Okay," he yelled to her. "I'm scared."

She stopped and looked back. "What are you scared of?"

"I don't know. Just the store. It's big, and I've never been here before and I don't know what I'm doing." Weak and trembling, he could feel tears forming in his eyes.

"Women love to see a man cry," Barry's father had told him. "It's how they test to see how much of a man you are. They test you and they play little tricks on you until they make you cry, and when you do, they leave. So remember that, goddamnit. Don't let 'em see your weak side. Never let anyone see your weak side."

Now Barry was about to cry and it was too late. He was hungry and he was desperate and he couldn't go to the store and he was all alone, but he couldn't let this woman see him. He started walking to his car.

"Wait a minute," he heard her yell. Too late. He couldn't turn around now.

"Will you wait a minute?" she yelled. "Just hang on and maybe we can work something out."

Barry stopped walking and closed his eyes. A moment later, she put her hand on his shoulder and asked, "Are you okay?"

He looked back at her and said, "Will you sell me your groceries? Please?"

"I'll tell you what. How about if I go in with you? I go to this store all the time. I'll show you around."

Barry looked back at the living, breathing store and shook his head.

"I understand about not wanting to go shopping," she said. "My husband was like that. Maybe all men are. I guess that's why they need women... I take it you're not married?"

"No."

"And you've got no one to take care of you?"

"No."

She took a deep breath, then said nothing for a few seconds.

"Please," Barry explained. "I'm very hungry."

"All right. I'll make you a deal. I'll sell you my groceries, not for a hundred and fifty, but for seventy-five, on one condition."

"What is it?"

"You have to come over and let me cook you something to eat, right away."

"I'm sorry. I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to get back home."

"All right. You can leave as soon as I make you something to eat. Just come over for an hour. No, make that a half hour. Really, I need the company."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

She seemed to want to be his friend, but what if it was a trick? What if she was just setting him up for some kind of trap?

But what if she was really lonely? He couldn't just be mean to her for no reason.

"I don't like to leave my house," he said.

"Not even for a half hour?"

"Not even for a half hour. Not for anything."

"All right. Seventy-five dollars and we'll eat at your house." She smiled, then added, "But no funny stuff."

"Funny stuff?"

"You know. I don't want to find out you're some kind of psycho who invites women up to his house and kills them."

"I didn't invite you up."

She laughed. "Seventy-five dollars and a home-cooked meal. What, am I kidding? How could you refuse?"

"Okay. But no funny stuff from you either."

"I promise." She headed for her car. "You drive in front. I'll follow."

"Don't you want me to take the bags?"

"Nice try. I think I'll just keep them in my car till we get to your place."

Barry walked across the parking lot while she loaded her car, feeling he was making a big mistake.

He reached for the door to his car and a bee stung his hand. Suddenly, he realized that there were a million bees swarming all around his car. Apparently their hive had fallen out of the tree, onto his windshield, and they didn't look too happy about it. As he backed away from his car, the woman pulled up to him in a classic Ford Mustang.

"Nice car," she said.

He looked back at her, amazed that she could be so calm with all these bees around. Maybe she couldn't see them. Or maybe they weren't real.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked as calmly as possible.

"Yes."

"How many bees do you see on this car?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Well, approximately."

"Approximately... none."

He looked back at the car and the bees were gone.

"Why do you ask?" she said.

"Well... a bee just stung my hand and I thought there might be more."

"Oh. I see."

"Are you sure you don't want to take the one-fifty?"

"Yes, I'm sure. This could be interesting."

"Okay."

You'll be home soon, Barry told himself. Things are always normal at home. Just a few more minutes. But what about this woman?

He walked back toward his car and saw that the keys were still in the ignition. He tried the door. Locked. He slammed his fist against the window, then tried the door again.

"Are you sure this is your car?" she asked. "You know, you don't have to impress me."

"The keys are locked inside. In the ignition."

She got out of her car, looked in his window and announced, "The keys are not in the ignition." She crossed her arms. "This isn't your car, is it?"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys and opened the door.

"I don't get it," she said. "What are you so nervous about?"

"I don't usually have women come over."

He got in his car and headed home, with her following behind him. He got onto the freeway talking to himself. "What on Earth are you doing? You can't let her come over. She'll see everything. She'll see all the toys and you'll never be able to explain about the kids. She'll call the police..."

With that, Barry panicked. He changed lanes, looked around for the police and floored the accelerator. He saw her trying to keep up with him in the rearview mirror, but she was losing out fast. About a mile later, he saw a police car in front of him and hit the brakes, hoping they hadn't already seen him, hoping he had lost the Mustang. Whether or not they had seen him speeding, they didn't stop him. They left the freeway at the next offramp and Barry got off at the one after that.

He drove into the hills feeling very dizzy. He looked back into his mirror and he was sure he saw her car right behind him, pursuing him along the winding road. He shook his head and it was gone.

He pulled into his driveway and ran to the front door, no longer sure of what he was seeing, but before he could open it, he heard a horrible noise behind him. He looked back and saw creatures charging him from the street. They were only about half his size, but there were three of them and they looked vicious -- fat and hairy with sharp teeth.

He fumbled with his key. "Gotta get in the house... I'll be safe in the house."

They were much closer now, but the key was in the lock. He opened the door and ran straight inside, slamming it shut and locking it behind him.

He could hear them outside, banging on the door. He yelled, "You'll never get in!" Then, he heard them turning a key of their own in the lock.

That's not fair, he thought. I'm supposed to have the only key. He felt his empty pocket and realized that it was his key they were using. He had left it in the door. He yelled again. "Go away! I've got a gun!"

They pushed open the door and ran into the house, making awful hissing, whispering noises. They chased Barry into the kitchen, then back into the living room and up to his bedroom, where he reached into his bottom dresser drawer and pulled out his gun. It was loaded.

He shot the creature closest to him and it fell to the ground with a terrible growling noise. The other two turned and ran downstairs as he reloaded.

He caught the second one at the top of the staircase, shot him and reloaded. Two down, one to go. Then he saw the woman from the store, groceries in her hand, standing directly behind the third creature. Barry aimed at the creature as it ran toward her. She must have seen it coming because she looked terrified.

Barry realized that this was going to be a tough shot. If he missed the creature, he would hit her instead. But he had to try or it would get to her in a matter of seconds.

He steadied his aim and fired. Before it could attack the woman, he shot the third creature in the back.

"Ha!" Barry yelled triumphantly. The creature's arms flew up in the air, then it began to spin around slowly, making a painful moaning noise. It fell to the floor and a plastic mask slid off its face.

It was Carl.

The woman stood silently in the doorway. She looked down at the motionless body on the floor, then back up at Barry. "I don't understand..."

"I had to shoot him. He was about to get you."

"He looks hurt." She walked slowly over to the body.

"No, he's just pretending. That's Carl... My friend. I knew I should have warned you about the kids."

She knelt on the floor next to Carl and picked up the suction-cupped dart.

"Gotcha!" Carl yelled at her, jumping up and roaring.

"I love the kids," Barry said. "They always play fair."

The other two creatures came running down the stairs. "Who's she?" one of them asked.

"You can call me Aunt Jenny," she said, pulling off their masks.

"Is she your new girlfriend?" Carl asked.

"No, she's not," Barry said. "She's just cooking us dinner."

"Who's us?" she asked.

"Me and the kids," he answered. "Who do you think?" He noticed her apprehensive look. "Don't you like kids?" He looked down at the creatures, then back at her, smiling.