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Him:
I saw her there, lying down on the cement. What was she doing? Why was she there? Blood dripping out of her onto the pavement. Melding into each other. I wonder if she enjoyed it? Her: It happened so fast. Shoved onto the ground by some crazed shopper. This is why I don't do Black Friday. It's enjoyable here, though. I wonder if I'm dead? Is that why I'm not experiencing any pain? Could it be that God has finally decided to let me stop? The first few hours were like hell. Stilettos especially. Those things dig into your skin, ripping it, tearing, biting, as if you were food. I guess I could use that for work. "Lion Stilettos, half the calories, twice the bite!" Okay maybe not. I wonder if he enjoyed it? |
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Him:
He just stood there staring with a sly grin just barely detectable. I could see dollar signs in... 
Him:
He just stood there staring with a sly grin just barely detectable. I could see dollar signs in his eyes. This is all part of the game for them isn't it? They thrive on the insatiable need of others to acquire more. These are not people, not to them, these are customers. As long as their credit is good they are welcome. Shopper: Oh my god! She is a mess. Some people just don't know when to stop. She is bleeding everywhere...on those jeans. Maybe I could get a discount. The blood would still wash out if I hurry. |
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Store Manager:
That does not look comfortable. She seems too classy to shop here but every year she... Store Manager:
That does not look comfortable. She seems too classy to shop here but every year she arrives, over dressed, and stands in the centre court. Each year a man dressed in old jeans an a tattered khaki sweater find her standing there and they start off together without exchanging a word or a glance. Someone is going to need to clean this up. This is scaring away customers. But wait until the press arrives -- people will arrive in droves. Some can't seem to get enough -- morbid fascination, curiosity, desire even. And they won't come without their credit cards. |
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