The doors opened with what sounded like a trumpet. John was nearly knocked off his feet by the torrent of women in the lobby. Any of them were half his size, but they were many and he was confused. It was just 30% off!
He waded through screeching teens to the racks of blouses. His daughter only needed one, and she liked pink. He picked one up to examine it – 100% cotton, which was good.
It was “Made in Mexico” – better than Chinese labor practices, he guessed.
It was flying out of his hands – that was unexpected.
He turned to see a teenager carrying his daughter’s blouse and everything that had been on the rack with it up the aisles, screaming like she’d just beheaded the enemy chieftain.
He reached out with his right hand, groping for another the next rack, only to hear a distinctly Jewish scream of disgust. His cheek stung with the slap.
John turned to apologize, thinking he’d accidentally groped someone even though it hadn’t felt like flesh, but found his victim standing in front of a row of halters like they were her children.
It was loud in here, but he thought she was growling.
A store manager found him hours later, in the fetal position behind some naked mannequins. He was half-naked. Later he decided not to press charges, deciding the loss of clothes was his own fault for having tried to hide in a clearly marked 40%-off zone.
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