 Somehow, I got all turned around and couldn't figure out which way
the exit was. It's a good thing there wasn't a fire.I suppose
marketing majors would consider it a good plan to turn the whole
store into a labyrinth of shelves filled with toys, so that
customers are forced to spend hours perusing the merchandise while
surreptitiously looking for the aisle that leads to the door. Maybe
we'll think of one more thing we need.
They should have big boards that are labeled "Maps for Stupid
People" on the end of every aisle, with a big red dot labeled "You
Are Here."
"Well, of course, I'm here. Where else would I be?"
It was easy to spot the boys' section. It was black, red and
yellow: the colors of a poisonous insect. There you would find
everything from remote-control cars to monster-robot-mutant-cyborg
people that would be kind of scary if they weren't made of plastic.
Where is that exit? And where is a sales clerk when you need one?
Even if I found a guy with a giraffe imprinted on his chest, would I
really have the courage to ask him how the heck to get out of this
cursed store? I swear if I saw the slightest smirk, I might just
have to hit him over the head with this Easy-Bake Oven! ... Wow!
They still make these things? I haven't seen an Easy-Bake Oven since
I was a kid. Who'd have thought that cooking with light bulbs would
become classic entertainment?
I must be in the girls' section now. Everything has morphed into
pink and white with sparkles. I never realized how long the Barbie
aisle is. She was dressed in the costume of every musical ever made.
She had accessories for every career opportunity a girl could think
of. And Ken? ... Well, Ken was over in the corner waxing her Malibu
Beach Buggy.
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Then ... it happened. I turned a corner, I think, and wandered into
baby doll hell. Suddenly, the dolls started talking to me. They
demanded things like, "I want my Ba-Ba." "Mama!" one whined. I
didn't know if I heard it right because they all talked at once, but
I swear I heard one say, "Take me to your leader!" Then a group
started bawling as I walked past. It was a lactating mother's
nightmare. Good God! I wasn't lactating, but even I felt my breasts
jerk as I listened to the roar of a million babies crying. As I
walked, they started giggling in maniacal glee. It gave me a bit of
an inferiority complex. Did I have toilet paper hanging out of my
pants? Nope. No toilet paper. So what the heck were they laughing
at?
Then they clapped their little plastic hands and applauded me as
I went by. They were possessed baby dolls! One said, "I see you!"
The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. What kind of sicko would
buy a doll that sounds like a stalker? Maybe it was playing peekaboo,
but the first time my daughter heard "I see you!" come out of the
depths of her toy box, she would bolt out of her room, make a flying
leap into my bed, burrow under my blankets, and nothing I could say
would make her come out. We'd have to burn the doll and exorcise her
bedroom.
Man, this aisle was creepy! I spotted a guy sporting a giraffe
(on his shirt), grabbed hold of his lapels and growled into his
shocked face, "Get me out of this store!"
I saw the smirk. It was there, underneath the cautious look of a
guy who knows better than to provoke a lunatic. And yes, the
baseball bats were within reach. (So, that's the secret: You have to
hang a right at the baseball bats!)
But, I was just so grateful to be leaving that, rather than hit
the guy, I almost kissed him.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
