I was going to go to the early as shit Black Friday sales. The ones that start at midnight. I was going to go to Best Buy. I was going to watch all the shenanigans and make a killer blog post about it. It was going to be really good. I was going to bring a recording device with me and ask parents some questions like, “What are you buying? Who are you shopping for? Did you trample someone on your way in?” I was going to talk to the workers too. I was going to ask them for their craziest Black Friday story. Those were going to be really funny. I was going to hang around Best Buy for a while and then maybe I’d go to Macy’s and see how much Justin Bieber merchandise was already gone. Maybe I would have made a comment about how fast Justin Bieber’s Christmas album had sold, but how something a little more intellectual like books had sold very little. An observation like that is creative nonfiction gold. I would have crossed my fingers for a mother on mother tug of war for the last copy of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 or Twilight or whatever was selling fast. I was going to notice the ratio of women to men present for the experience and make some cunning insights. It was going to be very convincing, or at least mildly offensive.
I was going to close with a reflective conclusion. I was going to bring up the spirit of Christmas. I probably would have asked some rhetorical questions designed to make you think about your own Christmas beliefs. I would have closed with a few forgiving remarks for all the uproar I witnessed and defended their actions for the sake of a child’s happiness.
I was going to do that. Instead I got food poisoning. So thank you Camellia Grill. That’s the last time I ever get a fucking Cherry Freeze just to make a few friends laugh.
