Microfiction: Sales Rush

I smashed in his head with a half-priced chrome shower curtain pole. It beat taking coffee any day. The buzz, THE BUZZ.

I hear some yuppie college prick sneaking up on my shopping cart. Followed along by his girlfriend, with smeared cheap-ass mascara like devil horns on her forehead. Animals the lot of them, filthy money grubbing animals.

So I put a pair of stainless steel steak knives from my thirteen-piece cutlery set through their fucking hearts.

I’d raid their wallets, but some kid in last week’s diaper snatches it and runs underneath a couple of elderly woman gumming up the forearm of some gym teacher wielding a pair of hand weights.

“Shit! I could have gotten some shoes with that, you beast.”

Honestly, so selfish. Just like this woman trying to ram me with a rolling chair. It’s a whole thirty percent off!

I stop the wheels with a well-tossed pair of sandals, followed with a steak knife in her shoulder. But this sucker’s not playing fair. Damn southern stores with their BB guns. She’s aiming for my uncovered eyes.

It feels like a needle’s piercing me over and over again, but I run forward swinging my shower curtain. Head, then neck, then sweep the knees. She goes down against a still somewhat stocked shelf, and starts flinging anything she can at me. Dolls mostly. I step on her knee cap and pin her down with a spearing motion.

“Buy one get one free, you bitch!”

The counter’s still tens of feet away, more shoppers brawling in between me and my sales clerk. I brandish a stiletto heeled boot in one hand, and a lime green purse in the other, swinging it like a mace.

This is going to be brutal. I’ll have to make a detour around to the children’s section. I can see off in the distance this darling top that Betty will just love.

I look forward to seeing her smile on Christmas morning.

“Come on, who wants some!”

Special thanks to: Bob GerkinCollin PearmanDylan AlexanderJerry BanfieldMichael The Comic NerdPulsatilla PratensisSuperGoof Media, and Zeony.

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