The Legends Of The Shopping Mall

Our very chins are all aquiver with excitement this fair morning as we prepare to face the ordeal by supermarket with only the barest minimum on our holy shopping list to protect us from the beguiling and mesmerising special offers and Buy One Get One Free deals that tempt so many unwary shoppers onto the deadly rocks of over-spending.

We fought our way into the shopping mall, home of the demons of discounted prices and battled the monsters that are known only as the Sales That Must End Soon, only ever hoping to come out with our credit rating intact.

We entered the strange twisting labyrinths that are the lairs of the strange giant monsters that hoard furniture, drawing our credit cards in readiness, as we stalked amongst the wardrobes and fitted kitchens, seeking the treasures that are rumoured to lie deep within these monsters’ lairs.

We too have sat around listening in awed wonder to the tales of those brave enough to enter such lairs before us, listening in barely-concealed horror and trepidation as they told tales of that one ideal piece of furniture that lies deep within these places that is both well-made and reasonably priced, but is also that rarest of the rare – of a size that would fit in the space we have available.

So, we crept ever onward down into the darkest, deepest bowels of the labyrinth our ears cocked for those dread screams of terror from those other shoppers as they encounter the dreaded sales assistants and their bloody-curdling cries of ‘Can I help you, sir?’

We fought bravely, and, after a hard-fought battle, won the solemn promise of a delivery date in a future time that feels almost close enough to touch, and have escaped with only minor damage to our bank balance. Only to find our way to home and safety blocked by the necessity of battling through this supermarket in the ordeal known as the weekly shop.

No matter how battle-scarred our bank balance we fought bravely on, staggering beaten and bloody to the relative safety of the checkout queues. A place of relative safety, where at last we could turn to survey the battlefield, and note with sadness how many of our brave fellow shoppers fell to the ambushes so cleverly placed next to the discount shelves that tempted them towards almost certain defeat, and the loss of that week’s saving towards the holiday of a lifetime they had so faithfully promised, vowed, to keep safe from anything the deadly supermarkets could fling at them.

So we escape to the safety of the car park with our trolley of hard-won goods, grateful we live to fight again another day, but always – behind the eyes – there is that never forgotten image of those who we leave behind, cowed and defeated, and the almost certain knowledge that one day – who knows when – it will be our turn.