Walt's arrival, Chapter 1

Walt and his dog Daisy pulled up to his new home on Chester Drive. He pulled his 1967 Chevy Impala into the drive way and motioned the moving truck to park at the curb. He opened the passenger door of his car and pulled out the lock box where he kept his two Colt .45's and Browning 9mm that he had brought home from the Korean war. Walt then motioned Daisy to go up on the porch and stay. The two movers started to open the back of the truck to being unloading, Walt yelled
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
The movers looked incredulous for a second and then the larger one barked back
"our job sir, is there a problem?"
Walt walked over and got in the mover's face,
"yeah, I don't need your goddamn help, I've paid you, so go get lunch or something. I don't fucking care, but I'm unloading my own damn stuff!"
The movers looked at each other and shrugged, then walked off.
Walt went to the back of the truck and began to unload his boxes. There was not a lot of things there, no furniture to speak of, except for a small gun safe tucked in the corner of the truck. It took him two hours, but he finally got all of his things unloaded and placed on the two stories of his new home. Even the gun safe, tucked in a corner next to the fridge that had been left by the last occupant. The movers came back around 4 and took the truck and left.
Walt sighed and waved Daisy inside with him as he walked through the front door.. He walked over to his gun safe and counted off the combination in his head as he spun the dial. The safe opened with a well-oiled click. Walt looked in and pulled out his M1 Garand, cleaning oil, and rag and placed it all on the table next to the safe and began to dissemble and clean the various parts of his rifle. After he had finish, He fed Daisy, and refilled her water bowl.
Walt opened the fridge, and realized that it was completely empty, he had no cigarettes or beer either. Walt sighed, and walked over to a box, he opened it and took out a well-oiled leather holster. He strapped it on and put his. 45 in it. Walt walked out the door, locking both locks behind him. The Impala turned on with throaty purr. He drove over to the food mart and picked up the essentials: beef jerky, cigarettes, all the makings for roast beef sandwiches, and eggs and bacon for the morning.
Walt pushed his cart up to the register and paid for the groceries. The clerk said
" have a pleasant day sir."
Walt stared at the man for minute and growled,
"Dont count on it."
Walt walked out of the store and loaded everything into the Impala, and headed over to Mo'Liquor. He parked and opened the door, walking inside Walt looked around and spotted what he was looking for. He grabbed two 12 packs of Pabst Blue Ribbon, his favorite beer since the war and paid for them and walked out towards his car. Walt put the beer and the back of the Impala and started the car up. He got back to the house just as the mailman pulled away. Walt opened the rusty old mailbox and saw two letters; one was from his son which he shoved in his pocket. The other was from his real estate agent and he opened it to see that his bid for Townhouse number 1 had been accepted. He put that letter in his pocket as well, and brought all his groceries in to the house and put them in the fridge. Daisy slowly raised her head off the couch and then fell back asleep.

Walt made himself a roast beef sandwich, and put one 12 pack of P.B.R in a little green portable cooler that he then filled halfway with ice. He put his sandwich on a paper-plate, grabbed his cigarettes, and his cooler and brought it all out to the porch. He set the cooler next to his rocking chair, put his sandwich on the small table next to him and cracked a beer open. Walt took a long swig, lit a cigarette and leaned back in his rocking chair. As it began to get dark, Walt slowly got up out of his rocking chair and put the Impala in the garage for the night. He walked back up to the porch, put his plate in the trash, and put the cooler in the house. Walt walked back outside, and lit one more cigarette. He finished it, threw the butt in the garbage and went upstairs to bed.