After 2 whole helpings, 4 desserts and
3 retellings of the Thanksgiving disaster
from 6 years ago, we begged Mom
to take us shopping in the morning.
She said No but we have her composite number:
12 Pleases and she caved in,
defeated. Dad’s an 8, Grandpa’s a 6;
My sister Claire is irrational.
Early the next morning, the 5 of us,
our stomachs bulging like trapezoids,
piled into the RAV 4 and drove down
route 99 right to the Square 1 Mall.
The associative property of the mall on
Black Friday is amazing: mixed numbers
of people in huge lines are already
angling around even before 5 AM.
With all the sales, every product becomes a factor,
even the imaginary: Claire tried
to fit into size 5 jeans. I guess 70% off is
appealing when your pants are too tight.
After buying a lot of stuff we didn’t need,
we carried 8 stuffed bags to our car
parked in section 22, drove 6 blocks and
stopped at the 7-11 for gas.
When we arrived back at our house and
stumbled through the door, we were
greeted by our 3 dogs. Exhausted,
we managed 1 “Thanks, Mom.”