From the Crow’s Nest
by CLINT YOUNTS
Hey, kids, gather around the campfire. Hurry before the burn ban is reinstated. I have a story to tell you. A tale so scary that your mommas may have to add extra bleach to clean your drawers. I know Halloween was last month, but the tale I have for you this evening is scarier than any ghost story or monster movie. Children, the thing that makes my story so frightening is that it is true. It happened a few days ago, just like it has happened every year in the past and will continue to happen. So, kiddos, listen to my tale carefully.
Once a year, under an autumn moon, something wicked creeps into our world, a world that just hours before was happy and peaceful. While families gather to enjoy a meal together, this evil presence invades the homes. Sometimes it comes through the television. Occasionally it hides in the morning newspaper, inserted between the sports section and the local news. Normal people who were logical and somewhat rational ingest this evil spirit while consuming roasted turkey and sweet potatoes, oblivious to the devilish powers that will soon overtake their minds.
Shortly after the dinner table has been cleared and belts have been loosened, these once-sane people begin thinking irrationally. Visions of late-night excursions into the cities and suburban shopping malls are prancing in minds weakened by tryptophan. Logic is replaced by greed and lust. Men and women begin salivating over the newspapers resting upon their engorged bellies. Their eyes open wide, drowsiness disappears like the freshly-baked apple pie that once sat on the counter an hour before.
The infected souls begin to conspire, planning their crusade into far-away lands with names like Kohl’s, Penney’s and Toys-R-Us. The family elders, full of wisdom and pumpkin pie, vainly try to persuade the younger generation from joining the credit card-clutching clan of crazed consumers that will soon invade every retail establishment in a 30-mile radius. The elders who still bare scars from past battles for limited supplies of Tickle Me Elmos and half-priced Super Nintendos cannot convince their children that there are crazy people out there who will kill for the last Play Station on the sale rack. These young adults are infected and the elders know there is no hope. Their children have caught the fever.
Hordes of rabid shoppers run through the aisles of once peaceful stores, clutching a sales circular in one fist and a Starbucks double latte in the other, oblivious to others around them. Shopping carts violently collide, spilling stale popcorn and Slurpees across the shiny vinyl floor. Wild-eyed women with their sharpened nails claw at the latest fashions in Women’s Clothing while testosterone-filled men, hyped up on Red Bull and Snickers, savagely attack one another over in Electronics. Mothers are fighting over toys, and fathers are swinging elbows to get to the stack of Cars 2 DVDs. Mayhem and utter chaos fill the stores while money fills the cash registers.
That’s right, kids! These people are your parents, neighbors and teachers. For 364 days of the year, they are normal, friendly and fun-loving, but once the clock strikes midnight on Thanksgiving night, these fine folks catch the fever. They lose all common sense. Their eyes turn red and they see nothing but dollar signs. They wander into shopping malls like a pack of rabid wolves, searching for the best deals. Once the stores open their doors, through the gates of hell these crazed zombies rush, trampling the slow and the weak like stampeding bison. Oh, the horrors!
I personally witnessed this horrifying event in the past when I was a young man, and I still shudder when I hear the words “Early Bird Specials.” I continue to have nightmares every night after Thanksgiving. Sure, they might be caused from gorging myself on turkey, dressing and candied yams, but the memories of a near-death experience one November morning on aisle 13 at Target still haunt me today. So children, remember this tale I have spun. As the embers of our campfires glow dim, let us go forth and spread the word to your friends. Warn your family and friends of the Ghost of Christmas Shopping. Beware of Black Friday!
Clint Younts bares the scars of past encounters, but hopes his daughter gets the latest gadget for his grandson.
