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2 yellow onions. Corn starch. Microwave popcorn. A gallon of whole milk. Honey Nut Cheerios. Mike didn’t want anything more, nor anything less from his local Walmart. The music had been a drab addition to his shopping experience. Seriously, who even listens to Ordinary by Alex Warren anyways? Mike was just beginning to think about ending it all when, finally, a groovy, upbeat synth took place of the offending tune.
Looking around, he noticed many other customers sighing with relief, and a few with excited looks overtaking their features. Whatever this song was, Mike thought, it would have to be better than the previous poor excuse for one.
It’s fine, it’s cool
You can say that we are nothin’, but you know the truth
The opening lyrics gave Mike some pause as he grabbed for the furthest gallon of milk he could reach. Where had he heard this before? It sounded familiar.
And guess I’m the fool
With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof
Mike scrambled for his phone as he rushed to pull up Shazam, afraid the song would end before he figured it out, though the rational part of his brain knew that these were only the opening bars.
I don’t wanna call it off, but you don’t wanna call it love
Waiting impatiently for his phone to recognize the song, he started making his way to the cereal aisle.
You only wanna be the one that I call “Baby”
His phone buzzed, the identity of the song finally revealed. The small album cover showing a girl he assumed was ‘Chappell Roan’ dressed as a… pig princess? She was staring at him like she knew something he didn’t. Mike thought nothing of it, until the next chorus of the song crescendoed, breaking through his thoughts.
You can kiss a hundred boys in bars
Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling
The lyrics brought back memories. Painful memories, from Hawkins. From Will.
You can say it's just the way you are
Make a new excuse, another stupid reason
Mike’s vision was going funny. He had stopped in his tracks, his cart almost crushing his feet, which he had a sudden and strange awareness of. He was beginning to think this was a punishment from God. Mike hadn’t been religious in a long time.
Good luck, babe!
Well, good luck, babe!
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
Images flashed through his mind, disappearing as soon as they’d come. That day in the theater at Starcourt, staring at Will’s lips. Yelling those awful things in the pouring rain. El kissing him before the Byers moved away, Mike frozen in place. Flipping through the binder of Will’s art that he kept under his bed. Signing each letter without that four-lettered word El craved from him.
Good luck, babe!
Well, good luck, babe!
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
Greeting Will at the airport that twisted break. Making stupid jokes at Rink-O-Mania just to get Will’s laugh. Being stuck in that van for days on end. The painting. Seeing Will every morning at breakfast as he chewed on his syrupy eggs, mirroring Mike’s own habits. Telling Will that they shouldn’t be friends, but best friends, sealing his own fate. That final D&D game, still being too chicken to admit his feelings. Seeing Will with Carlton for the first time.
When he finally came to, his head hurt like hell. The world was spinning, and the soundtrack wasn’t helping as it reached a powerful bridge.
And when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night
With your head in your hands, you’re nothing more than his wife
And when you think about me all of those years ago
You’re standing face-to-face with “I told you so”
“FUCK YOU CHAPPELL ROAN!”
Everyone in Mike’s vicinity in that Walmart, on a formerly-peaceful Thursday afternoon, whipped their heads around. Some stopped and stared, others quickly fled. One teenager took out her phone, no doubt recording this.
The day Michael Wheeler finally snapped.
Put simply, it was a complete shit show. Boxes of cereal were thrown across the aisle, some bursting and scattering their contents all over. Mike took a whole bite out of one of the yellow onions, like it could excuse his violent sobs. A thin layer of corn starch soon dusted the floor as the container was abused against a shelf. Mike ripped open a packet of microwave popcorn, a block of butter and kernels falling in pieces. He hurled the gallon of milk halfway across the aisle, exploding as it took impact. In his blind rage, Mike didn’t notice the trio of Walmart employees physically restraining him. When he felt a hand grab at his shoulder, he didn’t even think twice before curling his hand into a fist and punching. Hard.
It was a miracle there were only 5 casualties, in the end. Including Mike himself.