Rat Race In Washington Square

“Woe to you, oh maniacal shoppers, for the Devil sends the Beast with 50% off’,

because he knows you’ve kept your shopping to the last minute.

Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the Beast, for it is a human number, the number is…

Sorry, your card has been declined.”

Welcome to the Terror Dome Mall, where everything is half off. Including your soul.

In the four corners of the crucifix-shaped labyrinth rests the four pillars of the Anti-Christ-Mas Beast. Two legs, Sears and Macy’s are on the horizontal axis. Two arms, JC Penny and Nordstrom Rack are on the vertical axis.

Flip it upside down and summon the Dark Lord of Consumerism. We couldn’t hire Santa this year, he said he’d be busy looking for good kids.

Birthed in the depths of the industro-commercial complex, the monster breathes venomous air into the wallets of the gold-crazed dwarf visitors. The dwarves, on their last minute shopping sprees, unknowingly feed the beast with their credit card swipes and their overdrafting transactions. And let’s not forget the secretive sprees of self-splurging…hmm, let’s just call it satisfaction for now.

“Getcho’ Christmas gifts! Getcho’ Hanukkah gifts! Getcho’ Kwanzaa gifts!”

Getcho’ whatever it is you celebrate gifts, right here, right now, for half off, half on, have fun and get gone. What do you think we’re running here? An arctic factory of little elf helpers?

The decay is on sale, people. Buy one get one free. Buy three get three free. Buy nothing, you are nothing.

Does anyone say ‘I love you’ anymore?! Or is “I am sorry” the only three magic words left?

Whatever you’re here for, whatever you’re buying, please proceed with caution; check your FICO scores before and after.

And remember, keeping your Christmas shopping to the last minute can save you up to 15% on…nevermind, you probably can’t afford insurance right now.

The Beast had sucklings installed in each store, a horde of demon salesmen doing his nefarious bidding. Sean, the black-haired clean-shaven suckling with puppy eyes dressed in a dark blue three-piece suit; blazer, vest and false dignity.

“Hey, have you been helped yet?” he asks. Helped. I’ve come to Kay’s jewelry store for help.

Because every kiss begins with Kay, the Beast suggested some ‘lab-treated’ sapphire with zirconium diamonds huddled around the blue gem. Surely nothing will get my smooch on better than man made diamonds and a manufactured ‘gem’.

Kay, where chic is faux, fad is facade and any percent off is non-existent. I know exactly what I want, Sean. Pfft, help. This ain’t my first rodeo, ain’t my first rat race, but it is my first Christmas. So unless you’d like a discussion about paganistic infiltrations on religion, I ain’t got time for your synthetic niceties.

Sean the demon suckling says: “Yousef? That’s my cousin’s name!”

  • Motherfucker…who would’ve known?! A white man named Sean has a cousin named Yousef.

Sean the demon suckling says: “I like that jacket. I can tell you’ve got great taste, would you like to get your gift insured for just $100 more?”

  • Motherfucker…I do have great taste. Also, this jacket is a hand-me-up. Because Trickle-Down Economics is just as ‘lab-treated’ as your Sapphires and Rubies. Reds and Blues…do you not see the irony here?

Sean the demon suckling says: “I love those rings, man. So cool.” Proceeding to touch them as he pays me a compliment.

  • Motherfucker…don’t you just hate it when people touch your gems? My rings are inscribed with sacred scripture. Mr. Demon Salesman, touch my rings again and I will fart in your establishment.

Sean the demon suckling says: “Thank you for your purchase, sir. Happy Holidays!”

  • Motherfucker…you too!

Don’t go shopping last minute. If you do, get your loved ones the best gifts and please remember the three magic words:

“It was on sale, Merry Christmas!”

Because buy three, get three free.

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