The suburban shopping mall near our house is crime central for our town, apparently due to its close proximity to the city line. There have been some high-profile incidents there, shootings and stabbings and such, and it’s common knowledge for miles around that if you’re tired of your car and would like to collect on its insured value, just leave it in front of Sears overnight.
I remember years ago there was a knifing in the Victoria’s Secret when a young filly found her stud buying a thong for his thing on the side. We dubbed the multi-screen cinema The Murderplex after a gang shooting one holiday season, the year I vowed not to give my kids permission to go there until they were thirty. I know they didn’t listen.
And one of the moms from the playground showed up all bruised one afternoon as a result of a purse snatching in the mall parking lot. The thief was the front seat passenger in a moving car who grabbed her shoulder bag as she pushed her son’s stroller toward the entrance. She was dragged to the ground alongside the mugger’s car as she tried to let go of her bag without letting go of her son. I grimaced as I listened to her story, but I had long ago started shopping elsewhere.
Which is why I went miles from home the other day to return something at Macy’s. I had bought some Clinique lip gloss at an upstate Macy’s one weekend only to discover they changed the formula and it now had the consistency of wood varnish. I dislike mall shopping in general, but I’m really adverse to losing blood while I do it. So I headed to a shopping mecca about ten miles away in a nice, quiet town where nothing ever happens.
I found a spot right in line with the Macy’s entrance, and as I got out of my car, I was face to face with the driver’s window of the SUV parked next to me since he had backed in. More than that, the driver was still in his seat. More than that, he was jerking off. It was one of those moments where you weren’t really sure you were seeing what you were seeing, kind of like when Tinkerbell appeared. But there they were, the whacker and the whackee, going at it to beat the band. As it were.
It was a gorgeous spring day so his window was down and he was probably staring right at me, but I just turned and walked toward the mall without looking at his face or registering a response. I had sunglasses on so he didn’t have the satisfaction of being sure I was aware of what he was doing, which was no doubt the whole reason he was doing it. And on that subject, may I say that his date was the sorriest little critter I have ever seen. If it was out in public not attached to him, it might be mistaken for a pink gherkin.
As I reached the store, I could see a security vehicle approaching so I waited until it pulled up close to me. The driver was a nice-looking young black guy who could never have expected what I was about to tell him. “Sir, right down that aisle there is an SUV with a driver inside spanking the monkey.” He blinked at me, and I wondered if maybe that wasn’t his euphemism of choice and he thought I wanted him to call animal control.
“What?” he said blankly.
“In the silver SUV next to the Sentra is a guy pulling his pud and it’s gross. I thought this was a nice mall. Would you please go make him leave?”
“Oh. Sure. Down this aisle here? A silver SUV?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I drove ten miles to avoid being stabbed only to watch parking lot porn. On the bright side, I had been wondering what I would write about today. As I reached for the Macy’s door, I could see the reflection of the security vehicle behind me. He was headed in the exact opposite direction from where I sent him.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos present Hard Evidence
tattooed kiss
broken and stranded
street pushers
bear-ing it all