A Day at the Mall

The shocks on the car squealed in relief as she forced her bulk through the door one flabby segment at a time. There were other people in the car but I couldn’t figure out how they fit in there along with Big Momma. I was watching this while sitting in our car with my two sons while my wife was in the mall.

“Where do you buy moo-moos that big?” I asked my oldest son, Daniel. “There’s about 17 parsecs of cloth wrapped up in that dress.”

“At least she doesn’t have to be picky about buying shoes,” Daniel said, “it’s not like she or anyone else will ever see her feet again.”

“My youngest son, Anders said, “I’ll bet she won’t leave the keys in the car, it would probably start itself up and escape.” – “Hey dad, can I get a water dragon?”

“No.?

“I’ll feed it and take care of it and I won’t scare mom with it.”

“You won’t do any of those things except the last one.”

The two people other people in the car with big momma finally extracted themselves; they were probably her two daughters. They weren’t as massive as Big Momma but they had an impressive size on them nonetheless. The two daughters were wearing pajama bottoms.

I said, “Why do people wear pajamas in public, is it really that hard to find a pair of jeans to slip into before leaving the house?  I’ll bet they were watching cartoons and Honey Boo-Boo all day before coming to the mall. What the hell are they looking for here? Nothing is going to fit these people.”

After Big Momma and her prodigy made it across the parking lot I saw more people in pajama bottoms. This time a pair of young girls walked by, both wearing plaid pajama bottoms and baggy t-shirts.

“Are they hosting a sleep clinic in the mall now?” I wondered aloud.

“No, Dad, girls wear pajama bottoms all the time, even to school,” Daniel said.

“I don’t like this, it’s laziness taken to a new extreme. I’d be mortified to wear pajamas in public.”

“I agree, I wish all girls would wear yoga pants, well, except those beasts that thundered by a minute earlier,” Daniel said.

I said, “If you want to really appreciate a woman’s shape, white pants are far better than black yoga pants; the color black tends to blend with shadows causing you to miss a lot of the subtleties and contrast of a well shaped ass. All photographers know this.”

“Hey, Dad,” said Anders.

“What?”

“When you were a kid did you meet Alexander the Great?”

“That was pretty random, and I’m not that old, you little turd——I should have smothered you in the crib when you were small.”

“I have a theory,” said Daniel.

“I doubt it,” said Anders.

“Shut up and listen,” said Daniel.

“Why should I listen to you, you just got a C in psychology.”

“I got an A in English 1A, so shut the fuck up.”

“You don’t even have a girlfriend.”

“You know what, screw you, I’m not telling you my theory.”

“Oooh, baby needs his pacifier!”

[a lot of scuffing and cussing ensues followed by 10 minutes of thick silence]

“I’m sorry,” said Anders after he couldn’t take the silence anymore (he always apologizes first)

“Whatever. How long is Mom going to be in there?” asked Daniel.

“I think she got distracted by bright shiny things,” I replied.

“She’s probably buying another purse. Ow! Godammit stop that!” said Daniel. [my youngest son knows a lot of martial arts pressure points and uses them on his older brother as an equalizer, because the older outweighs the younger by 100 lbs].

“Shit that hurt, show me how you did that!”

Anders demonstrates the pressure point.

“I’m going to use that on Preston.” [Daniels’ best friend]. Daniel takes this moment to reach up and slyly lowering the temperature in the car to something like minus 20.

“Stop turning down the damn air, it’s my effing car and I don’t want to be found frozen in it,” I said.

“You always have it blazin’ balls in here, have some consideration for the rest of us mere mortal——I have sweat running down my ass crack,” said Daniel.

“Kick in a car payment and you can you can fuck with the air all you want, until then keep your hairy-assed fingers off the controls. Take off that sweater if you’re so hot.”

“The sweater is comfortable and that’s not what’s making me hot.”

“You’re a genius, how are you not running someone’s company for them yet? Take off the sweater, shut up about the air and stop all the damn complaining,” I said.

“You two stop flirting,” said Anders.

“I’m going to tell your stalker where you live,” said Daniel.

“Don’t do that, there’s enough creepy people already hanging around in our neighborhood,” I said.

“I’m getting hungry, can we go inside and get Mongolian BBQ?” asked Anders.

“You just ate two hours ago, you can’t be hungry again already,” I said.

At this point Daniel started lightly tapping me on the shoulder to get my attention.

“Whoa, look at that baby over there! That’s one ugly baby,” said Daniel.

He was describing a toddler who was being carried by his mom. The child had a head that was too large, narrow eyes too far apart, a weird bulbous nose and no lips, pasty skin and a mass of freckles like tiny coffee stains on a wall after someone sneezes on it with a mouth full of Café Americano. Gender identification was hopeless.

“Pretty bold of her taking that thing out in public,” I said.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” said Anders.

“I think most toddlers are pretty cute, but that one got all the low cards in the genetic deck,” I said.

“Too many recessive genes got through,” said Daniel.

“Are you sure they didn’t just shave their dog and are taking it for a walk?” said Anders.

“You know, it’s an asshole thing to say that a little baby is ugly, but everyone is so politically correct, someone has to tell the truth, and I’m saying straight up, that’s one fuckin’ ugly baby,” I said.

“You wouldn’t love it if it was your child?” asked Daniel.

“You think too harshly of me, of course I’d love my child if it was that ugly, I mean I almost puked when you were born but I got used to you.”

“I’m a beautiful specimen and you know it,” Daniel said.

“Too bad the girls disagree,” said Anders.

“In all seriousness, I’d love my child no matter how it looked. However, I’m conscious of other people’s feelings, and if my baby looked like that, I’d keep it at home with the shades closed,” I said.

“Mom always contradicts herself in these situations. She’ll comment about how a kid is homely but then say ’Oh, but it’s so cute’,” said Anders.

“Talk about being diplomatic in the face of overwhelming evidence that a kid is just plain ugly. Why can’t people just express their true feelings without all the damn niceties that make everything so fake?” I said.

“I’m hungry. Let’s go to the food court before those giant women finally make it there and eat everything,” said Anders.

“You’re the reason why we’re on a first name basis with every checker at Costco——we’re there spending every last dime we have keeping you in groceries. You’re the reason I have to buy those giant containers of ice cream like they have behind the counter at Baskin Robbins.” I said.

“No, it’s because you like to flirt with the checkers, even the dudes,” said Anders.

“I’m not sure why I take you out of the house, it’s like owning a parrot that only knows how to cuss and taking it to church,” I said.

“What is taking mom so long, I’m getting hungry too. Ha, here she comes now, but I don’t see her with any packages. What was she doing in there the whole time if she didn’t buy anything?” asked Daniel.

“Don’t jump to conclusions, we’ll have to frisk her for receipts——she could have bought something and set it up where she has to pick it up later,” I said.

My wife gets in the car.

“They have a great sale at New York Company. They marked everything down 50% and you get another 15% off if you spend over $100.” My wife said.

“You already have so much clothes you have to keep some in boxes,” I said.

“You always say that you want me to look nice in public but you complain when I buy something,” she said.

“You know how to be clever when you want to buy something, why not use those powers for good? No one needs 20 purses, 40 shoes and enough clothes to stock Target with an impressive inventory. Besides, you’ll never guess what we saw,” I said.

“What?” My wife asked suspiciously.

“A troll baby, someone chased it out from under its bridge,” said Anders.

“Yea, I saw it too, I hate to say it but it wasn’t very pretty. But it was almost cute,” she said.

“No way, you can’t have it both ways. Either that baby was ugly or it was cute, decide!” I said.

“You’re so mean.” She said, without much conviction.

“No, say it, the baby was ugly, and don’t try to qualify your opinion by watering it down with some diatribe that you know isn’t true,” I said.

“I can’t say that. Guess who I ran into in the mall.”

“Who?” I asked.

“You remember Maria from Ander’s pre-school?”

“You’re lucky if I can remember which city we lived in when he went to pre-school, let alone all the people involved. Let me ask you a question though, did Maria think the baby was ugly?”

“Shut up about the baby and listen. She knows Bob from our coffee group and she said. [I can’t remember the rest of what she said but I’m sure it was worthy of CNN.]”

“Can we just go home now?”Daniel asked.

“You’re the strangest 19 year old ever. All you want to do is go home and watch TV; don’t you have a girl to impregnate or some hard drinking to do? I asked.

“You’re getting me confused with Constance” [My daughter, 22], Daniel said.

“He’s just waiting for the right guy to come along,” said Anders.

“You’re the one who always makes all the home-erotic jokes,” said Daniel.

“I really would like to go get some pants and new shirts, most of mine are old and raggedy,” said my wife.

“You know last month when you were sick for a week and couldn’t go out? Macy’s called and asked if you were going to get well soon because otherwise they were going to have to lay some people off,” I said.

We went back into the mall where Anders ate enough to impress food Big Momma and bankrupt me, and my wife bought pants and shirts. Daniel complained constantly how we were ruining his school vacation by keeping him away from his DVR’d episodes of Law and Order.

By Gavin Smith-Jefferson