Fly Me to the Mall and let Me play among the stores

Fly Me to the Mall and let Me play among the stores

A Story by El Camp
"

A middle-aged, retired woman alone, seeking the rekindled fantasy of love-via the internet.

"

It started with one of our usual phone conversations about how to spend the delicious hours of freedom yawning before us in the day ahead. My BFF Sophie and I, now confirmed "mall junkies," had met ten years ago; our meeting culminating in mutual retirement from the monotonous, regimented, imprisoning responsibilities of the supermarket managerial regime.

After 3 years of unaccustomed madcap freedom from the 9-5 harness of enforced slavery in the public mines of aberrant psychological dysplasia, we had finally begun to settle comfortably onto the hallelujah trail of halcyon physical and mental liberty. Staring into the frightening and seemingly empty panorama of pension inertia; we began to busily lay the mall to mall carpet on which to install the plush and comfy furniture of our new leisurely life.

Judging from the word "retirement," you may have guessed that Sophie and I were no longer frolicking within the elastic boundaries of blossoming girlish youth. However, our still radiant, if faded, glory, and newfound independence had put energetic wings to our once ball-chained and bunion-hobbled feet; and like bandits making off with the gold express- we romped daily in glorious enterprising glee- doing whatever our blissfully giddy minds could think of, usually within the confines of the law, and whatever our bird-singing little hearts desired; which consisted on this particular day of one of our regular sale-mongering trips to that epitome of woman's delight-the glass and steel wonderland structure of the local shopping mall.

We had decided, during one of our wine-induced, philosophical epiphanies, that rather than an uneventful, meandering slide into oblivion, our best course lay in backtracking to our original bad-girl, disobedient, pleasure-seeking selves; which we had so expediently, though reluctantly, relinquished upon the mastery of the parent, teacher, family and society motivated syndrome of "Good girl" adulthood.

Although our forays into this bravado of rebellion had heretofore been more swagger than substance, we did remain open to any and all invitations to wild parties and bacchanals; sticking to our decision to be the wine-chugging, cigarette-smoking, expletive pronouncing free-spirited poets and world-weary writers we once aspired to be. A plunge into the baser echelons of slang language being a seeming requisite for our newly acquired lifestyle; we immediately began exercising the practice of the singular expression of superiority in this genre- the F-word; which had fallen by the vocabulary wayside during the crossover into the "good girl" world of adult dialog.

We resurrected this forbidden expletive with lewd relish; and found it to be an instrument of infinite possibilities, that if not used to the point of tediousness, had a biting punching impact without equal on people and situations of extraordinary recalcitrance, stupidity and annoyance.

We wisely limited its usage to expressions of strong emotion and exasperation such as; "Who the F do you think you are?" "What the F are you doing?" "Get the F out of here" and shut the F up!"

The ingenuity and timing of our excursions to the malls, thrift stores, novelty shops and antique bazaars within a 50 mile radius of our neighborhood, was based primarily on the knowledge accrued during years of experience in the world of retail sales and service. We ascertained that the most propitious strategy was to nip into these bastions of seductive and alluring merchandise on the last day of the 7-10 day sale intervals; thereby taking full advantage of their now desperate triple mark-down endeavor to rid the inventory of its accumulated laggard commodities.

We finally bustled into the elysian fields of bargain heaven, after a frantic and fruitless search for my right contact lens, which had popped out upon my trip and fall stumble over the parking lot curb- the second in the last 30 minutes- the first one being as I dazedly tripped down the short flight of steps leading from my apartment building.

"What on earth's wrong with you?" Sophie asked in exasperation. "Oh nothing, I'm okay," I distractedly replied- fishing a pair of emergency glasses from my handbag. "We'll never find that contact, I'll just wear these."

Our first stop, as always, was the second level food-court, from which emanated the savory aromas of greasy-fried Chick-o-Lick chicken fingers, tangy mustard and onion foot long hot dogs and Thai Chi Teriyaki Chinese noodle bowls; hovering in a delectable miasma of appetizing seduction from J.C.Penny's to Macy's. Squeezing around the wobbly, dinner plate- sized food-court table, we gingerly mopped at the ketchup and cola sticky surface before falling hungrily on our nail-chewing, angst ridden choice of lunch specials- which due to our diet-busting buttered movie popcorn and Ben & Jerry splurge of the day before, consisted of black coffee and grilled chicken & pine nut salad.

"Ohhh nooo," I cried in dejected moan, "I've ruined my brand new purse!" "It'll be alright," Sophie announced in sympathetic conciliatory tones, as she hastily dabbed at the dark coffee stain slowly creeping across the soft absorbent surface of my imitation suede leather handbag. "Soon as we get home I'll look up that vinegar-lemon-baking soda, tomato juice stain remover recipe in my new 10,000 and 1 homemade household hints book." "That'll never come out," I replied in hopeless despondency. "I'm such a klutz!" "You have been acting kind of absent-minded and clumsy today," Sophie giggled, with a suspicious glance. "You weren't nipping at the Sherry bottle before I got there were you?" "Oh don't be silly Sophie; you know I never drink alcohol before noon." "Hey- maybe we should scoot on down to Pablo Pepper's Lost Pintos for a couple of margaritas before we start shopping." "No way!" Sophie exclaimed in mock horror; "You're not getting any margaritas the way you've been stumbling around today."

We began our leisurely stroll down the promenade- deftly dodging the influx of walkers and joggers; arriving at the agreed on destination of Virginia's Hidden Mysteries; the fantasia of women's mystique in sultry underwear and lingerie, whereupon I came into pell-mell smashing contact with the glass display case beside the entrance door- knocking my glasses askew and flattening my nose into a throbbing blue nub. Sophie, making sympathetic noises, straightened the glasses on my reddening face; eyeing me with an arched brow.
. "Are you sure you can see out of these things? Maybe you need a new prescription." "I just got them a couple months ago- right here at Glass Eye Maestros- you were with me, remember?"

"Oh Maaam!" I turned in startled question at the squeaky high-pitched voice as a spindly-legged jean-clad teenaged girl bounced after me- waving a large flopping package. "You left this on the counter Mam," she smiled, handing me the purple Virginia's Hidden Mysteries shopping bag. I remembered then that I had laid it down at the jewelry booth where Sophie and I had been trying on the genuine imitation gold and silver dipped costume rings and slave bracelets. Taking the bag in embarrassment; I didn't know whether to hug her or offer her money- responding to Sophie's anxious tug on my sleeve; I did neither, but offered a heart-felt "Thank you,' and beat a hasty retreat behind my sale-mesmerized friend as she sashayed into the Happy Hippie Nook dress shop in dedicated search of the window advertised twice-marked-down, multi-colored mock Navajo poncho, with real silver and turquoise beads.

With Sophie clutching her zealously sought out prize, we headed for the exit door, expertly weaving our way through the Happy Hippie Nook's zombie-like customers.

"Oh no! Look what you've got on." Sniggering behind her hand, Sophie playfully jerked the store alarm device dangling in back of the imitation leather, real western Indian-style vest I had tried on..

We expertly wound our way to the escalators where
I was fortuitously saved from a backward-flipping spill by a quick-reflexed, albeit wandering-handed, good Samaritan who stood behind me; while attempting to walk up the downward rolling staircase.

"I don't know what's wrong with you today," Sophie grumbled, as she firmly guided me to the wooden bench beside a potted plastic rubber tree plant. "But we're going to sit down here and get to the bottom of this." "You've had your head in the clouds and your feet on backwards all day.I don't. whoa... wait a minute," she exclaimed in sudden epiphany, gazing with Lucy-popped eyes- "It's a man! Isn't it?" "You've been acting like someone in love!" "Oh, don't be ridiculous Sophie; you know I'm not seeing anyone now." "I would have told you."

"Well... I suppose so... unless... he's not one of my old boyfriends is he? - you know we made a pact about that." "No Sophie, I'm not in love with anyone." "Now lets get on up to Shoe Insanity Universe so I can get the shoes I came here for in the first place."

After bidding Sophie goodbye at the door, and swearing for the 10th time that I wasn't hiding a new romance from her, I set to examining my newly acquired purchases. Blinking in dismay, I slowly withdrew the two left-foot shoes from the tissue-papered box- One black casual flat and one straw-colored sling-back wedge.

Sighing in resignation, I poured the cool pink Rose` into a long-stemmed glass and sat down in front of the softly glowing screen. As I tentatively touched the keyboard, a slow secretive smile tugged at the corners of my lips- my heart pounded in excited anticipation as the recorded voice resonated into the room- "Welcome, you've got mail."

© 2015 El Camp


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Wow, I've gotta say, I'm impressed. I never thought I'd ever be able to read through an entire story where two retired women visit a shopping centre! Good job! You pack so much wit into each sentence that I couldn't help but go on.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

El Camp

8 Years Ago

I'm so sorry that didn't edit this after I posted it- I'm sure you noticed the confusion of a couple.. read more

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333 Views
1 Review
Added on April 26, 2015
Last Updated on April 27, 2015
Tags: Retirement, love, middle-age crisis

Author

El Camp
El Camp

Houston, TX



About
I'm a mother, grandmother, sister, lover and friend. A fourth generation Texan- I live in the great state of Texas USA. My interests are reading and writing- Science- Humanism- History-and sixte.. more..

Writing