Grocery Store: Doughly white guy, probably in his late 60& #39;s, at least a hundred pounds overweight. Wearing a brand new "Molon Labe!" T-shirt with a picture an AR-15 and the logo of the local shit-for-brains NRA militia.

Molon Labe. Come and take it!

1/

I followed him around the store. Not stalking, he was just going in roughly the same direction as me.

I& #39;d look up, he& #39;d be there. Molon Labe.

As if Xeres might appear at any moment, right there in the canned vegetable aisle. Come and take it! Oh, 2 for 1 on canned peas!

2/

Wheezing, face red as a baboon& #39;s ass, sweating, out of breath, he suddenly sat down on the edge of the dairy fridge. Holding the Hot Gates against the Persian army is hard work. Grandpa Leonidas needs a rest.

Hoplite Junior seemed to take it in stride.

3/

He sat there for ten minutes.

I waited to see if he& #39;d have a heart attack.

Or if he& #39;d have to defend America with his AR-15 assault dildo from a phalanx of spear wielding socialists.

Mostly he just dripped sweat on the eggs.

/4

After a while the kid helped him up. He wiped at the sweat with his shaking hand. No masks, him or the kid. I think I can make it now, he said, and they shuffled off, dripping sweat on the floor.

Come and take it.

The Spartans would have left him on the mountain to die.

5/5

I& #39;m not in the greatest shape either anymore.

Age sucks.

My point wasn& #39;t his fitness, it was the message. Come and take it! He sees himself as some Spartan warrior, and he can& #39;t even make down the dairy aisle.

But the GUN makes him ten feet tall, you see?