Christmas is here folks, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
My pocketbook is thin, my cupboards full
I yearn for a room without conveyor belts beeping ceaselessly
14.99, salad spinners, multipak batteries 21.99
unrealistic body imagery glaring to my right, making me self aware
I notice a man's breath behind me-fluttering my hair
It's rendolent of cheez-it's and halitosis, reeking of death by hydrocarbons
Im in the christmas spirit now,
'please go to 4' the dragon screeches at me
I shuffle forward-gracelessly dropping my goods near the bearded lady
'did you bring your quarter of a percent off card today?
I shrug
'you wanna sign up?'
I dig nervously in my purse
barely resisting the urge to scream into it.
I finish the ritual- offering my soul to the smiley face gods
I walk towards the doors the sun through the sole window catching my eye- a shimmer of hope
I barely escaped with my life-I think to myself
I feel a hand on my shoulder
a decrepit old man is demanding to see my reciept
under his blue smock I catch a glimpse of Garfields hide
I ask the man to wait, struggling to put on my coat I drop my bag
the wine decantor smashing to the floor
He looks at my reciept handing it back
'you can't get a refund sweetie, that was half price'
Merry Christmas
My pocketbook is thin, my cupboards full
I yearn for a room without conveyor belts beeping ceaselessly
14.99, salad spinners, multipak batteries 21.99
unrealistic body imagery glaring to my right, making me self aware
I notice a man's breath behind me-fluttering my hair
It's rendolent of cheez-it's and halitosis, reeking of death by hydrocarbons
Im in the christmas spirit now,
'please go to 4' the dragon screeches at me
I shuffle forward-gracelessly dropping my goods near the bearded lady
'did you bring your quarter of a percent off card today?
I shrug
'you wanna sign up?'
I dig nervously in my purse
barely resisting the urge to scream into it.
I finish the ritual- offering my soul to the smiley face gods
I walk towards the doors the sun through the sole window catching my eye- a shimmer of hope
I barely escaped with my life-I think to myself
I feel a hand on my shoulder
a decrepit old man is demanding to see my reciept
under his blue smock I catch a glimpse of Garfields hide
I ask the man to wait, struggling to put on my coat I drop my bag
the wine decantor smashing to the floor
He looks at my reciept handing it back
'you can't get a refund sweetie, that was half price'
Merry Christmas
The lady in the blueberry coloured tracksuit reminds me of the blueberry chick from Willie Wonka, maybe it was actually Violet Beauregard, ok so the colour was violet but you catch my drift.
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