Hands in Your Pockets Now
He looked at the glass animals while is girl friend wandered around the shop. He lingered at the Koala for a time. Then came a succession of looking at his watch and moving his head about in a darting fury looking for his partner. She was off browsing in an area full of pastel-colored dolls. She had a frown on her face. He looked at the Koala again. The cashier was chatting away with a man who was wearing bicycle shorts and a yellow windbreaker; she wasn’t looking at him in the slightest.
It was quartz he thought. His hand reached out to pick up the translucent marsupial, but stopped short. He read the sign taped to the lip of the shelf: “This isn’t a petting zoo. Don’t touch the figurines!” He turned back to his watch with a grimace on his face, and then he looked for his girlfriend again; she was still frowning, this time she was gently fingering a Precious Moments statuette in contemplation. The conversation between the bicyclist and the cashier warbled on under the wind-chimes and fairy wands.
He was most likely in the clear.
He didn’t know why; there was no way in hell he could ever explain or justify it, but goddamn did he want that carefully crafted crystal koala. He hadn’t even wanted to come inside this shop. It was a girly shop. It brought back horrible childhood memories of his parents demanding that he not touch anything. It was a damn do-not-touch shop. Everything was breakable. The big bad wolf wouldn’t waste his time with this place, he wouldn’t waste his breath. Yet here he was, lusting after an inch high koala with black eyes and a green glass bamboo shoot. He had looked at the price again, and it was the same as it was about twenty minutes ago. Too-the-fuck-much. Who in their right mind would pay $200 for a tiny magical koala? No one, that’s who. That’s why he was going to steal the little bastard.
So he looked around one more time. Everyone was in the same place, except for his girlfriend who was now poking the horn of a porcelain unicorn. Now was his time to strike. He casually hefted his camera bag onto his shoulder while reaching up to the second shelf. In that moment, the one before an action is completed but after the point of no return, he knew that he had made a grave error. And that moment seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Just as his hand closed around the prize he lost his footing, and that’s when the world came crashing down. His arm came crashing down through two shelves of glass sending a whole majestic realm of crystal creatures cascading to the ground. Like a Narnian apocalypse. As he landed he couldn’t help but think that the whole scene would have looked badass in slow motion. It would have been a shining, glittering metaphor for what was about to happen to his bank account.
It was quartz he thought. His hand reached out to pick up the translucent marsupial, but stopped short. He read the sign taped to the lip of the shelf: “This isn’t a petting zoo. Don’t touch the figurines!” He turned back to his watch with a grimace on his face, and then he looked for his girlfriend again; she was still frowning, this time she was gently fingering a Precious Moments statuette in contemplation. The conversation between the bicyclist and the cashier warbled on under the wind-chimes and fairy wands.
He was most likely in the clear.
He didn’t know why; there was no way in hell he could ever explain or justify it, but goddamn did he want that carefully crafted crystal koala. He hadn’t even wanted to come inside this shop. It was a girly shop. It brought back horrible childhood memories of his parents demanding that he not touch anything. It was a damn do-not-touch shop. Everything was breakable. The big bad wolf wouldn’t waste his time with this place, he wouldn’t waste his breath. Yet here he was, lusting after an inch high koala with black eyes and a green glass bamboo shoot. He had looked at the price again, and it was the same as it was about twenty minutes ago. Too-the-fuck-much. Who in their right mind would pay $200 for a tiny magical koala? No one, that’s who. That’s why he was going to steal the little bastard.
So he looked around one more time. Everyone was in the same place, except for his girlfriend who was now poking the horn of a porcelain unicorn. Now was his time to strike. He casually hefted his camera bag onto his shoulder while reaching up to the second shelf. In that moment, the one before an action is completed but after the point of no return, he knew that he had made a grave error. And that moment seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Just as his hand closed around the prize he lost his footing, and that’s when the world came crashing down. His arm came crashing down through two shelves of glass sending a whole majestic realm of crystal creatures cascading to the ground. Like a Narnian apocalypse. As he landed he couldn’t help but think that the whole scene would have looked badass in slow motion. It would have been a shining, glittering metaphor for what was about to happen to his bank account.
posted by Campy Draper at 11:43 AM
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