Merry Nickmas: The Shopping Mall

4.

     The shopping center looked much like a scene after something had caught fire. People were running every which way, panicked looks on their faces, grabbing hold of bags and parcels that they thought priceless. As he crossed through the automatic doors, two things happened; the first was that his ears were assaulted by the machine gun fire of rapid Christmas music from an age that shouldn’t have produced anything above a low brass whimper; the second was watching an old woman beat a man over the head with her leather hand bag, and snatching a remote control helicopter from his hands.

     I thought this only happened on Black Friday.  He reached to make sure that his wallet was buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. Nick felt a bit like he was walking into a warzone, and found himself running internal threat assessments on each shopper that passed him by. Middle aged man, arms full of expensive headphones, probably couldn’t get a solid punch in before I grounded him. Nick had never “grounded” anyone, but he thought that if he could, it would certainly have to be someone who had their hands full.

     The thought of having to find a meaningful gift for the person who had given birth to him amidst such chaos was a terrifying one. Nick only communicated with his mother when absolutely necessary, and tried to avoid sentimentality as it reminded him of the gutter he felt his life had fallen into. In a corner shop, a giant poster of a liquor bottle being poured into a frothy cup of eggnog hung. It was as though he were Odysseus being called forth by the siren’s song, but he resisted, and pressed on.

     After a solid twenty minutes of wandering around, Nick found himself in an electronics store, completely stumped. Time was running out to go home and watch Christmas specials, and he was sure that his cat had already drank most of his rum. His face soured at the thought of the fluffy black feline, passed out drunk in a pile of dry food on the kitchen floor. It was both envy and jealousy that gripped him, and possessed him to make a snap judgment so that he could go home.

     Nick walked to the nearest display and picked up a universal remote that cost fifty dollars. Not too cheap, not too expensive, complicated enough that it’ll give me something to do for them over the break. He was about to take it up to the counter when a sales associate spotted him. Nick wished desperately for some tall grass to lay in and disguise himself, but the man was approaching fast, and beaming with an air of someone who was paid on commission.

     “That’s a fine choice there sir,” he said, jovially, with far too much hand waving for such a bland statement.

     “Thanks,” muttered Nick and headed for the counter.

     “But,” there was always a “but” with salespeople. “Are you sure you don’t want to pay an extra twenty dollars and get the next model up?”

     Nick didn’t even want to buy the first model, but was in no mood to explain that to the man. “No thanks.”

     “Are you sure? It can control everything; your light switches, coffee makers, or even the family dog.” The salesperson’s laugh was as fake as the Christmas trees in the back of the store. Nick didn’t like being yelled at by sales associates, and felt sorry for what he did next.

     “Does it shut you up?” The man was stunned, and was still scratching his head about the comment when Nick left the store with a smile and a gift receipt.