This is a tale of consumerism gone wrong, good turned to evil and BOGO flipped into OHNO. Have you ever strived mightily to purchase an item that is half off only to find that your ring finger had been nearly torn half off in the battle for the BattleBots? What about that winter coat that you have been dreaming about - what if you found out that you had to throw a mean forearm shiver at a nice old lady in her church clothes? What if the nice old lady in her church clothes that you had to throw that mean forearm shiver at was your own mother or grandmother? Would you still be singing the sweet harmonies of the many benefits of North Face's new products or would you grab that nice old lady, toss out your best Heisman pose and sprint through the Walmart like your life depended on it or at least the fate of the Apple Cup? You are Allen Iverson to Reverend Pat's Tyronn Lue as you step over the poor sonofapun to scoop up the newest version of the RoboTraumatic 3000 to take it to the house as the house band plays. In case you haven't participated in the Black Friday festivities in the past few years, they have expanded to quite to carnival type of event as Walmart now plays host to a series of local house bands whose soft melodies are intended to ease the bloodthirsty shoppers into a more NPR kind of mindset. Right when you are about to get your dirty paws on the sweet new robot presented by Apple's emerging rival company, Papayasonic, that will not only clean your toilet but amazingly let you know when you have to go to the bathroom before you even know that you have to go to the bathroom, you are thrown into a tizzy by a polite looking Walmart sales associate named Lizzy. Lizzy is here to be the bearer of bad news. It is at this moment that you realize that Bad News Bears is just this phrase but jumbled up and slightly modified to more cohesively fit a movie baseball team name. You like movie baseball more than real baseball - the action is much more palatable for your short attention span and brief interlude into cinephilia. Lizzy looks at you like she is about to tell you that she has to be the one who will put your brand new Golden Retriever puppy down from a case of Love Overload. Lizzy tells you that that is the last RoboTraumatic 3000 in stock and it has been strictly reserved by a local Scrooge luminary who likes to ruin the holidays of the common folk by doing these dastardly types of deeds. You are nearing the end of your rope, however, as you are at the point of no return, similar to everyone in the bloody store. You deke left before pump faking the package to an unaware store associate who is stocking the shelves with items (more like having items ripped out of her hands by ravenous shoppers who would still tell her that they were "just looking" if she ventured such a query.) You catch a glimpse of daylight as you sprint for the exit of the store, declining the idea of paying for the RoboTraumatic 3000 and opting for the ever growing free route that the majority of the other Black Friday spenders have hastily chosen. *BOOM* You are blindsided by a former high school linebacker, or at least he hits like one. The last thing you see as you crack an eye open to peer at the carnage is the ogre revving up his peach tinted Hummer's Hemi with his key fob and escaping the UFC cage match of a store with nary a rug burned funny bone.
Buy Chris's books SPONGE CAKE & WHAT'S IN THE FRIDGE? on Amazon
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