We're flushed into this world on a sea of amniotic fluid, slip sliding into the loving arms of our parents. We're innocent and pure and as long as our desires for warmth, dryness, and food are met, we know no reason to return anything but the same love that is bestowed upon us. Life is good, we are good.
We are born with clean slates, just waiting to be chalked up with the facets of life that will shape us mentally and emotionally.
For the majority of the population this same pattern emerges and exists as we continue to slip slide through life. We have obstacles to overcome and emotions to handle, but again, the majority deal with life in a good and proper way. Our inborn sense of right and wrong keep us on the straight and narrow, allows us to choose good over evil.
There are exceptions to all things.
At some point in time, part of the population joins the immoral dark side and goes to Shiela Shrew's School of Snarling Salespeople. Upon graduation they secure employment in women's apparel stores. It is here that they begin to show the true evil that lies within them, as if they envelope themselves in a cocoon, emerging metamorphosed into a demonic seller of souls.
You've planned a nice day of shopping and your spirits are high. Traffic was light as you drove to the mall thinking of the things you'd like to find. You're almost whistling as you begin.
Pushy 101 teaches the first rule of retail: When a customer enters the store they suddenly lose all sense of style and fashion, the ability to make decisions for themselves, and their modesty.
She sees you, Control 202 kicks into high gear and you lose your identity as evil dressed in a linen suit points her radar your way. This one must have graduated suma cum laude.
"May I help you?", she inquires as you feel her eyes honed to razor sharp infrared vision evaluate every inch of your body. You want to see if your shoes are scuffed, you know now that you should have worn the other blouse, but it's too late. The devil disguised as Sally Salesclerk has chosen you as her next victim and you stand there in fear.
"No...no...", you stammer, "I'm just looking."
This makes about as much of a dent as saying no thank you to a telemarketer. You may as well have simply stood there and scratched your nose for all the difference your professions of self worth in shopping have made.
"What are you looking for today?", she asks and again you explain that you don't know, you're really just looking. You try so hard not to look at her, but her hypnotic gaze draws your head up to meet her piercing stare.
Serrated teeth flash in a sardonic smile as she condescendingly absorbs you, each word she does not say telling you what a fashion mistake you are. You can see her eyes glowing, mirrors to the cold dark and evil being that has taken over the mind of what had been a simple human form before it joined retail.
A surge of strength allows you to pull away from her, but like a vampire you feel her breath on your neck as she follows you, close on your heels, hell bent in all ways to feed her desire.
"This would look lovely on you!", she effuses, selecting an ungodly egyptian looking Nehru collared dress with buttons the size of Rhode Island. Continuing on her depraved and vicious quest to clothe you she snatches item after item from the rack, slamming them up against you. Beads of sweat form on her upper lip in her fury to garner her ten percent.
"I'll put these in the dressing room", she says, herding you towards the dark recesses of the store. Possessed now by her virulent ill will, you are helpless to resist. Your feet move with a will of her own.
The worst has just begun.
How do these wicked demons know when you have just removed the last garment from your body? Bursting through the dressing room door with her depraved and spying eyes, she glowers at you. "Try this, how do you know you don't like it till you try it. Do you need help with that? This covers your big hips! Try another color."
Oblivious now to her wretched administrations and seeking only escape from the lair of this vile and despicable monster, you try on outfit after outfit. You are left panting and weary, reduced to a slobbering blathering inept idiot. You no longer care that several customers have seen your naked body as they were corralled past your open dressing room by their own personal Satans. There is no safety in numbers, no sympathy shared with these kindred souls. You each merely pray for your release from the den of iniquity you have entered.
Sated at last in her quest for your soul and your worth, the demon retreats with the armload of items you were coerced into purchasing. Blessedly alone, you dress, ignoring the quiet whimpering from the room beside you. You have no strength to deal with another's pain.
You can't believe the time when you glance at your watch as you sign the credit card receipt. It's as if you were a victim in some grade C horror flick, replaying your violent death over and over again when truly little time has passed.
As the ogre bends to place your purchases in the bag, you see them, tiny little horns barely covered by her hair, little buds borne of the brute they crown. You shiver.
"Thank you and have a great day!", she chirps. You want to say so much, you want to run to the nearest snack stand and get holy soda to throw at her, watch her sizzle and melt on the carpet. You want to explain that there is a fine line between 'assisting' and being an ass.
So thankful, however, to be leaving with all of your limbs and most of your blood, you melt that carpet yourself in your hasty exit to the door.
Straight to K Mart. Where you can't find a salesclerk if your life depends on it. And glad that you can't, because perhaps it does.