Don't f—k with fat chicks
The rest of my day off found me in the Wolfchase Galleria, looking for sales so I could beef up my dismal summer wardrobe. I took a sashay through Torrid to see if they had any good deals on jeans (they didn't, but I bought some anyway; suck it, Dave Ramsey), and as I was waiting to check out, I noticed this skinny white kid, probably 12 or so, rifling through the bras on the wall. I figured he was in the store killing time while his mom shopped, but it didn't take too long for me to realize, when I kept hearing squeaky boy guffaws from the store's entrance, that the kid was fucking around with the bras to amuse his pals. Because, you know, fucking around with fat lady bras is hilarious to boys.
As I handed over my purchase to the clerk, she asked me if I found everything okay. "Yes," I said, "but I think that kid might need some help finding a bra." I motioned toward the kid, who was by then putting his hands all over every bra he could reach. The clerk said she knew what was up and that they had called security.
I handed over my credit card and the kid made a hurried exit toward his laughing friends in the doorway. "Hi," he said stiff-lipped as he passed me and three clerks. They all erupted into giggles as they made their way off toward another store.
"I thought they were laughing at us just because we're fat," one of the clerks told me. "Then I figured out they had dared one of them to come in here."
"He was sniffing the bras," another clerk told me. "I think something's wrong with him."
Yeah, he's 12 I thought. And 12-year-olds are assholes.
The security guys got there and asked what the kids looked like and which way they went. As I was signing my receipt, the security guys returned with a whole group of skinny white boys, and asked the clerks to identify which boy had been fondling the bras.
The clerks quickly picked the kid out of the line-up, and I slowly snuck out as the security guy instructed the kid to apologize to the clerks. He did, disingenuously, of course, but well enough to be dismissed instead of hauled to the security office and forced to call his parents. I watched the group of boys walk away from the store, giggling and talking rapid-fire in hushed voices about their hilarious prank.
Just another Monday at the mall, I guess.
As I handed over my purchase to the clerk, she asked me if I found everything okay. "Yes," I said, "but I think that kid might need some help finding a bra." I motioned toward the kid, who was by then putting his hands all over every bra he could reach. The clerk said she knew what was up and that they had called security.
I handed over my credit card and the kid made a hurried exit toward his laughing friends in the doorway. "Hi," he said stiff-lipped as he passed me and three clerks. They all erupted into giggles as they made their way off toward another store.
"I thought they were laughing at us just because we're fat," one of the clerks told me. "Then I figured out they had dared one of them to come in here."
"He was sniffing the bras," another clerk told me. "I think something's wrong with him."
Yeah, he's 12 I thought. And 12-year-olds are assholes.
The security guys got there and asked what the kids looked like and which way they went. As I was signing my receipt, the security guys returned with a whole group of skinny white boys, and asked the clerks to identify which boy had been fondling the bras.
The clerks quickly picked the kid out of the line-up, and I slowly snuck out as the security guy instructed the kid to apologize to the clerks. He did, disingenuously, of course, but well enough to be dismissed instead of hauled to the security office and forced to call his parents. I watched the group of boys walk away from the store, giggling and talking rapid-fire in hushed voices about their hilarious prank.
Just another Monday at the mall, I guess.
posted by theogeo | 7/10/2006 07:56:00 PM
2 Comments:
Ew. Even worse, that kid will probably grow up to be a Senator. Or a copious breeder. Or both.
Heh. And he will have contempt for fat chicks AND cops.
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