A Visit to the Mall

Ken Sheldon - 12/2/09

‘Twas a day past Thanksgiving, I woke from a snore.
The clock on the dresser said quarter to four.
My wife and I both wiped the sleep from our eyes
As we set out to find us a Christmas surprise.

I’d heard from some friends, “Man, you really should try it.
The prices are so low it causes a riot.
Compared to the other days, everything pales. ”
So we made our way to the Black Friday sales.

We got in the car and we drove out the drive.
I joked, “Do you think that we’ll get back alive?”
But my wife did not speak as she studied her list.
“We will get every item!” she silently hissed.

“Your brother: a watch, for my mother: a dress.
Your father would like a brand new GPS.”
For the kids, every parent I know would agree.
They are asking for games they can play on a Wii.”

As I played with the radio, holiday spirit
Came musically nearer to all who could hear it:
The tunes through the years that we all know so well,
Like the Singing Dogs barking the tune “Jingle Bells.”

When we pulled in the parking lot, to my dismay,
The first open spot was a mile away.
We hiked to the entrance, and what did I see?
But folks who had camped out. They’re sicker than me!

They’d been there for hours, some others for days,
Each hoping for buys in the Black Friday craze.
From the look that I got from them, I got a sign
That we should retreat to the end of the line.

We got to the back and then looked ‘round the place.
It was like we were running a marathon race. 
The doors were burst open, the crowd surged inside.
“Let’s look for the GPS,” we both decide.

As part of the Black Friday shopping crowd masses
We walked as if stuck in a pool of molasses.
At last we arrived at the Radio Shack
Where we found a new GPS ‘way in the back.

My wife turned and said, “I am going in for it.
With prices like these, it is hard to ignore it.”
The instant she touched it, she almost got crushed
As the shoppers around to that GPS rushed. 

The crowd swept upon her like schools of piranha
And I really thought my poor wife was a goner.
They pushed and the shoved in, all trying to reach her.
And one of them was our son’s Sunday School teacher!

I helplessly watched, quite unsure what to do,
As she came from the scrum sans her bra and a shoe.
Although battered and bruised, with her sweats ripped and torn,
She held the thing tight, to the shoppers’ deep scorn.

Then waiting at check-out to pay for our prize,
The lines were so long. It’s a place I despise.
The time that I’m waiting, I really do dread it.
I’m hoping our purchase won’t max out our credit.

When we returned home at last, almost intact,
My poor wife had abrasions and eyes colored black.
“Don’t you worry,” she said. “Though I really am fine,
I’ve decided next year we are shopping on-line.”