All Over Creation. Ruth Ozeki

recognized a couple of faces, but the one he knew best was a sergeant named Meinike who’d busted him and confiscated his board, just for doing nose grinds off the benches by the senior center, a vengeful action seeing as there weren’t even any seniors sitting on the benches at the time. He was a mean mother. The other cops held back, but Meinike charged right over.

      “All right, punks,” he growled. “Party’s over.”

      He grabbed a cart and hauled on it, trying to break through, and looked quite perplexed when it resisted. He began to rattle the carts, trying to pull them apart, but Frank had done a very good job with the wire.

      “Without labels, you don’t even know what you are buying and feeding your families!” Mr. Potato Head shouted, bug eyes popping, jumping up and down. “It is a violation of your consumer’s right to know!”

      Meinike was really pissed now, and the other cops closed in. “You’re under arrest for trespassing and creating a public disturbance!”

      Three of the patrolmen pushed through the crowd of customers and attacked the circle from the other side.

      “We’re not disturbing the public,” Mr. Potato Head said. “We’re educating the people.” He turned back to the crowd. “Learn about the issues!” he shouted over the clatter of carts. “Your children are at risk! Their futures—the future of life itself!”

      The Seeds began to chant, “Power to the people!” as the police broke through. The first person they reached was Lilith.

      “Police brutality!” she shrieked as soon as the cop touched her. Her body went limp, and she dropped to the floor as though she’d been shot.

      “Oh, my God, they’re hurting her!” a woman cried. The mothers grabbed their kids. They continued to watch from a safe distance.

      One by one the Seeds fell to the ground, until Frank was the only one left standing. His friends lay there, absolutely still and chanting, as the cops tried to haul them to their feet. Meinike approached him.

      “Well, the chicken man. What a surprise.”

      “Shut the fuck up, Meinike.”

      “Oh, sure, Frankie. Anything you say.” He slapped a handcuff on Frank’s wrist. A cop was dragging Charmey up by her armpits. It looked like he was hurting her. Frank pulled away, but Meinike jerked his arm behind his back and attached the second cuff. “Calm down, will you?”

      Charmey threw back her head and screamed. Frank twisted, breaking free from Meinike. He lowered his chin, took aim at the cop who was holding Charmey, and put everything he had into a head butt into the officer’s rib cage. The man staggered. Charmey dropped to the floor. Meinike spun Frankie around, drew back his fist, and delivered a sucker punch, deep into Frankie’s solar plexus.

      “What’s wrong with you, chicken man?” he said as Frankie crumpled. “I said calm the fuck down.”

      “The point of the exercise,” Geek explained later, when they’d finally gotten back to the Spudnik, “is theatrical.” He toweled off his hair, still wet from the snow outside, and watched Charmey wrap an Ace bandage around Frankie’s cracked rib. Frankie flinched. “Passive resistance,” Geek said. “Nonviolence. You make the police look like brutal oppressors in front of the citizens. You’re not supposed to get hurt.”

      “They were hurting Charmey,” Frankie muttered.

      “Mais non,” Charmey said, securing the bandage. “It was only my acting. You must relax your body totally, comme ça.” She stood and fell to the floor of the Spudnik and lay there, grinning up at him. “Tu comprends?”

      They’d been arrested and taken to jail for a couple of hours, but when complaints started coming in from Thrifty Foods shoppers and even the store management, the police had to let them go. It was sweet, especially when Meinike tried to charge them with shoplifting, and the Seeds pulled out their register slips and demanded their groceries back—four ten-pound bags of Idaho potatoes, two pounds of zucchini, a dozen butternut squashes. One of Meinike’s beat cops loaded them back into a paddy wagon. The snow had been falling all afternoon, turning to sleet as it came in off the lake. The cop dumped them at the edge of the Thrifty Foods parking lot and gave them one hour to clear city limits. They howled into the wind as the wagon pulled away, high-fived each other, and chucked icy snowballs at the retreating taillights. They cut through the parking lot. Geek trailed behind, lugging the potato head and tripping on his big burlap diaper.

      Miraculously, the cops had left the Spudnik alone. It was covered with a thick hump of snow. Geek had tied in to a power line in the parking lot before the action, and they’d kept the heaters running, so it was snug and warm inside. Charmey peeled off Frankie’s wet coat, wrapped him in a blanket, and leaned closer to inspect his rib.

      “We got one hour, dude,” said Y. “That doesn’t give you much time.”

      Frankie’s rib cage spasmed again. “I can go over to Mickey D’s,” he offered, “and get your stash for you. While you get ready.”

      “Don’t bother,” Y said. “We’ll stop on the way. We’re ready. What about you?”

      “Me?”

      “Yeah. You need to pick up stuff from home?”