Adventures in Going to the Mall on Christmas Eve

Dear friends: below is a 97.1% true story, yet with your clever additions, it will ultimately be a 71.3% true story. Fill in the gaps with the requested word choice directly on top of the grey text. It is meant to be light enough to write over. However, if you choose to use this story multiple times, it is suggested that you use a separate sheet of paper on which to write your words. The author understands that at least two readers are required to enjoy this interactive essay; therefore it has been subdivided into six parts so each reader can trade off and enjoy both roles of author and scribe (just don’t let your eyes wander beyond the section at hand!).

It was a adj and cold evening, and female friend and I put on our wintery superlative adj attire. She immediately noticed my mis-matched gloves, scoffing at the frayed fingers and worn holes. They did look kind of like swiss plural noun, but the blown out fingertips proved useful for actions like buttoning sweaters, zipping plural noun, and scratching plural noun, so it didn’t bother me. Even before we reached the exit off the interstate, cars were backed up all the way to the mall entrance, creating a large noun of red brake lights ahead of us. At this hour on Christmas Eve, this was the superlative adj party in town.

The first stop was Barnes and Noble… but in order to go inside, we had to verb. Finding a parking spot was adj, and as lengthy as the actual shopping. The anxiety from the other shoppers circling like plural animal for a space to park was palatable. For a good 30 minutes we verb (past tense) around the labyrinth, our goal always within sight, but just out of reach. Same female friend said, “uh, … is that a spot?” I said, “I think you should just go for it”. It was clearly illegal, but I wanted to get the hell out of the vehicle. Eventually we found a place light years from the store, grabbed our plural noun, but forgot our reusable shopping bags. I guess we could just buy another one, right?

We form of movement (past tense) into Barnes and Noble and I made a bee line for the music section, finding CDs to sample with their music-listening plural noun. I found Susan Boyle’s Christmas album, put the plural noun on, briefly thought about the germs on them, then listened away. Surprisingly, she had covered Lou Reed’s Perfect Day, so I skipped to that song, but unfortunately the clip ended before it got to my favorite part. I shifted focus. Upstairs was a whole other wonderland of books and plural noun, so I decided to ascend. Randomly, I ran into a friend from way back. In fact, this guy, Chris, was the first boy I ever kissed. Yep, we grew up together in Hot plural noun National Park, Arkansas. Random. He was shopping for a cookbook, and I told him I was looking for my friend. It is amazing to think how some things never verb, like losing people in malls. That shit’s been happening since I first stepped a body part from lower half inside a mall, except it was much scarier when I was 5. He wasn’t without his shopping buddy, who was hovering number feet away. Am I the only one who constantly verb ending in — s people in malls? Eventually I found same female friend, and she found her books, including one for her dad entitled “Body part in Space: A Guide to Astral Travel from the Comforts of Your type of room.” It was a successful stop.

Next? Straight to the internal organ of the mall: the trendy-teen-alternative-adj-made-in-country store. I rifled through the scarves and key chains and thought about all the times I visited the mall when I was in level of education … wanting to own all the sparkly plural noun on display, thinking how it must be so cool to have a job there. I helped same female friend find a t-shirt and decide on the perfect item of clothing for her friend. While checking out, I noticed the obligatory buttons for sale with adj phrases such as “The voices in my body part may not be real, but they have some adj ideas!” Another success, then off to the gift wrap store. We walked in and I was feeling silly and wanted to find wrapping paper to match my mood. I asked the job title for the silliest wrapping paper s/he had. S/he seemed puzzled and pointed me in the direction of the birthday-themed paper. But I had no use for birthday wrapping paper (Jesus’ birthday happened years ago, duh — we’ve moved on to plural noun and Santa Claus). By the end of the wrapping paper fiasco, I lost same female friend yet again. I guess she had changed her internal organ about the gift wrap… or else had snuck away to buy me a gift while I was preoccupied (secretly wished my number -year old kid-at-heart).

I hesitantly walked out of the store, nearly being verb (past tense) up in the one-way river of shoppers. Taking a couple steps direction, I carefully plotted my move. I channeled my video game skills that have accumulated over the years and, like frogger, hopped perpendicular to the traffic during a break, paused for number second(s), then dashed for the middle “safety zone” where other shoppers had broken from the river to eddy amongst the plural land form of knick-knacks. Reverting back to memories of getting lost in the mall when I was a stage of human life, I found a safe spot to idle and keep a body part on the location where we together last. That safe spot just happened to be right next to the calendars of sleeping puppies and kittens. I flipped through the pages and giggled to myself, thinking how strange it would be if cats had calendars of verb ending in — ing people nestled in blankets or sprawled on the couch… and then thought I should make a calendar of furry, burly, sleeping men, and sell it right next to the furry, adj, sleeping kitten calendar. I looked up to check for same female friend — no sign. A wo/man sidled up to me, no doubt the job title for the calendars, and said, “You know, if you laugh that means you have to buy it.” I told her/him the one I really wanted wasn’t for sale.

I looked up again and spotted same female friend on the other side of the shopper river. We were stuck. She adverb navigated her way to me, bumping into a couple mall plural animal on the way. Eventually reunited, we plowed against the current and veered off to find an exit. After adverb bundling up and stepping out into the cold night air, a strange sequence of events happened while outside by the street feature. Actually, it wasn’t a sequence. It was a bombardment. At the same instant and all within number feet of us, a woman screamed, a car honked its noun, and a distraught man asked us for spare change for the bus. None of these things were related to each other. Same female friend handed him a single form of currency while I meandered adverb toward the car, still discombobulated from the adj synchronicity of the events and generally over stimulated from the mall experience.

The parking lot was still packed like sardines. We drove away feeling a little less adj and a little more ADD than before. Moral of the story: Dare to Dream a Dream like Susan Boyle and witness the ensuing adj success.