ArcticAvenue
Randomly Pawing At Keys
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2013
- Posts
- 1,650
Mall Rat (Open)
I hate malls. It's all, I don't know, a big fucking waste. The old ones are just pathetic with kiosk selling junk that you wouldn’t buy on TV but for some reason someone has a business model her. The new ones think they can pass themselves off as a wannabe museum, calling themselves Galleria or some shit. During the holidays, they stink of the masses packed in so tight I can’t help but to feel claustrophobic. The rest of the time, they are nearly dead with the exception of the ungrateful rich kids wandering around with the smoothies and designer brand shopping bags trying to impress each other. They’re just store after store of clothes and hats and shoes. Half of them have nobody in them but some stuck-up counter person trying to be someone they're not.
It’s the people really that get my ass. Ungrateful, yeah, that’s what I called them. Spending money they got from their mommies and daddies. Not knowing what it takes to make a living. Even the workers here, making their money spending their day flipping through magazines and saying how hard it was to place a fucking sweater on a rack. They would sit there in their tight little clothing, their blouses diving deep enough to get a good view, the air conditioning turned down so low I cold measure the size of their nipples. Then those skirts that suggest if they move I could tell which My Little Pony was on their panties. Indecent, it is. Ungrateful.
Didn’t notice it was half as bad until I got back after my last tour. Six years going in and out of places these people can’t even fathom. It’s been only a couple years since I have been back, short enough that I still keep my military trim to me. Known a lot of guys who went to war 6 foot, crew cut, stacked, racked, and tough as shit – only to come back to become fatasses in a few months. I worked too hard over there to let me go soft. Being over there makes things different. Over there a good day for the people you protected is when they can relax enough to have a quiet family dinner and feel full afterwards. Over there a shit day has nothing to do with sweaters on a rack.
The wife wanted me out of the house, to socialize more she says. Why a mall? Well, I’m here because my wife made me come here. Niece’s birthday, and she wants something specific. Says only at the mall to find it. Says to go there and ask for help. We’ve been arguing so much these last couple of weeks, I didn’t feel like making this one another thing. So here I am. Wandering through the stuck-up, soft, ungrateful masses trying to find that store so I can get in, get out , and get home.
I hate malls. It's all, I don't know, a big fucking waste. The old ones are just pathetic with kiosk selling junk that you wouldn’t buy on TV but for some reason someone has a business model her. The new ones think they can pass themselves off as a wannabe museum, calling themselves Galleria or some shit. During the holidays, they stink of the masses packed in so tight I can’t help but to feel claustrophobic. The rest of the time, they are nearly dead with the exception of the ungrateful rich kids wandering around with the smoothies and designer brand shopping bags trying to impress each other. They’re just store after store of clothes and hats and shoes. Half of them have nobody in them but some stuck-up counter person trying to be someone they're not.
It’s the people really that get my ass. Ungrateful, yeah, that’s what I called them. Spending money they got from their mommies and daddies. Not knowing what it takes to make a living. Even the workers here, making their money spending their day flipping through magazines and saying how hard it was to place a fucking sweater on a rack. They would sit there in their tight little clothing, their blouses diving deep enough to get a good view, the air conditioning turned down so low I cold measure the size of their nipples. Then those skirts that suggest if they move I could tell which My Little Pony was on their panties. Indecent, it is. Ungrateful.
Didn’t notice it was half as bad until I got back after my last tour. Six years going in and out of places these people can’t even fathom. It’s been only a couple years since I have been back, short enough that I still keep my military trim to me. Known a lot of guys who went to war 6 foot, crew cut, stacked, racked, and tough as shit – only to come back to become fatasses in a few months. I worked too hard over there to let me go soft. Being over there makes things different. Over there a good day for the people you protected is when they can relax enough to have a quiet family dinner and feel full afterwards. Over there a shit day has nothing to do with sweaters on a rack.
The wife wanted me out of the house, to socialize more she says. Why a mall? Well, I’m here because my wife made me come here. Niece’s birthday, and she wants something specific. Says only at the mall to find it. Says to go there and ask for help. We’ve been arguing so much these last couple of weeks, I didn’t feel like making this one another thing. So here I am. Wandering through the stuck-up, soft, ungrateful masses trying to find that store so I can get in, get out , and get home.
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