Mall World

I escape the downpour outside. I have wandered the streets again in my quest. In an almost Taoist way, I look at the world. It comes and goes. Rebirth and a spin of the wheel. Poverty and riches gone like an egg frying on the sidewalk. Yet I cannot find a place of warmth. Of dryness and of dairy products. I must flee the rain. Everyone knows that the agents of evil lace rainwater with PCPs. I hurry along, my head covered by my cracked and worn leather jacket. I find a doorway. I open it.
Sound. Like a thousand angry lions or an army of ancient warriors waiting to fight their accursed foes, the sound washes over me. I still feel dirty. I lower my head out of my jacket and stare in wonder. Lights and shiny things draw your eye like a pencil. I can almost taste the neon coming off the signs. I say to myself, "Yet, this is only the beginning". Could more adventure be found. Or would I crumple under the pressure. Just lay on the soft mat until the security guards hall me away with their unfathomable power.
No, I decide, I must trudge onward. People around me are moving and jostling like cattle. Wheres the man with the prod? As that thought slinks across my brain I begin to panic. So many people. Who's real? Who's fake? Then I remember it's a mall. Everyones fake. I go toward the kaaba of the mall. The directory. Surely this would guide me like a Merlin to my quest. Whatever that may be. YOU ARE HERE, declares a angry red dot. I'm here? Who the bloody flux is watching me? I peer around and see the dark globes of Big Brother. I must stay calm. Mustn't let them know I'm on to them.
I randomly choose a place to run to. Where or what it is is of no matter. I move my lower appendages towards the destination. Cautiously I look back to see if the brown shirts are following me. Theres many brown shirts. Damn, I declare, why can't they wear a new colour? In any event I arrive in a clothing store. I will be cursed by Jupiter himself if I wasn't in the bowels of hell. Teenie boppers shopping for the latest fads wander the store. People that look like their in the Special Services patrol and fold clothes. I am so very frightened.
"Hi there!" exclaims a small overly-happy minimum wage thrall. I just mumble something. It might have been a greeting or a Tibetan curse. Who's to say? I continue deeper into the jungle of tight jeans and low-cut tops. Music is pounding through the speakers. A blend of pseudo-punk with so much sugar I feel a need to go to the dentist. I finally find my way to a brown leather sofa. I join the poor boyfriends dragged here by their shopaholic girlfriends. As I sit and try to get centered I am suddenly hit by a thought. These people are all insane. Granted I have had this thought numerous times and merely laugh about it, this time I can't laugh. Generally people tend to look at you odd when you laugh at nothing. Wierdos.
I decide it's time to leave before I kill someone or wrestle a manikin. That got me kicked out of a different store. I wander back out into the highway of people. The throng moves with experienced mall walkers racing like their shoes are on a fire to the little old couple who've been there since 9 AM and damned if they don't get their 10 mile walk. I walk with my head down staring at the squared, scuffed tiles. I need to get out of here.
In the ten thousand year history of man this is the only time that we have been completely cut off from nature. We can shop, eat, sleep and relieve ourselves at our leisure. All within the comforts of a room temperature box. Foods from a thousand nations are there for you to order and indulge. Peoples from all cultures and classes come together in this capitalist utopia. The mere fact that you can buy anything blows my mind. I think I even saw a human slave store. I digress.
I continue my meandering path towards one of the twenty thousand exits for those who can't go twelve paces without sucking tar. I head out one doors almost bowling over a old man. He glares at me. I don't care. I need to smoke tar. I light up a cigarette and finally get a clear thought. Traffic rumbles in the distance. The voices have finally stopped. I run a hand through my long, greasy hair. A truck backs up its warning sound getting all but the deaf and dead out of the way. I take a last pull from my joy-stick. I flick the butt to the ground. I'll need to steal another pack tomorrow.
I have no idea where I am or what I'm doing but I know one thing. I hate shopping centres. The idea of people following trends hurts my soul. Bored salesclerks peddle their wares like snake oil salesmen. I have no time for this. I have places not to be. I hitch up my coat and begin to walk away from the gargantuan maw of a mall. It begins to rain. Hard. I don't try to avoid it.
FIN