While cleaning out my wallet
over the weekend, I'd found an Abercrombie and Fitch gift card that my ex-girlfriend
had gotten me as a Christmas gift, tucked away deep within the abyss of the
billfold. It was a ridiculous gift to purchase for a bodybuilder; assuming I'd
be able to fit into clothes designed for scrawny frat boys was quite humorous
to me.
Nevertheless, I am rather
frugal with my finances and hate seeing cash go down the drain. I headed to the
local mall, and while I'd never stepped foot inside an Abercrombie and Fitch
and had no idea where it was located, the obnoxiously loud techno music
piercing the air guided my way to the establishment.
Upon setting foot in the
store, I was horrified. The music was now so vociferous that I was unable to
hear myself think. Looking around in disgust at the array of pink and purple
t-shirts amassed amongst torn jeans, I wondered if there'd be anything worth
purchasing in this store. Deciding wife beaters may be my best bet, I set out
to ask an Abercrombie employee where I'd be able to find them.
I spotted two skeletal male
employees near a mannequin and made my way over to them. They were dressed
quite similarly; flamboyant colored t-shirts over camouflage cargo shorts and
green flip-flops. The pair was folding clothes, yet dancing with each other to
the rapid beat of the music at the same time. I cleared my throat to get their
attention, but this proved to be futile. Instead, my actions appeared to only
cause the two to fold and dance with one another even more quickly. It was
bizarre.
Frustrated, I finally found a
rack of wife beaters, grabbed an XL, and sauntered over to the dressing rooms
to try it on. When I did manage to pull it over my head and onto my body, I
realized that XL in Abercrombie terms doesn't necessarily translate to real
life. In fact, the beater was so tight, I was unable to get it off. In a panic,
I left my dressing room and found another A&F employee, female this time of
course.
"Excuse me, sweetheart, but I'm having some trouble removing this shirt
and I'll need some assistance?" I told her with a sly grin.
"Sure thing," she said with a smile, leading me back into the
dressing room, her skirt so short that she'd undoubtedly be mistaken as a
hooker in most U.S. cities.
The brunette vixen peeled the
wife beater from my body and pulled it over my head, leaving her directly at
eye level with my brawny torso.
"Wow," she said airily, as her green eyes darted all over,
giving my body a thorough evaluation.
“I get that A LOT.” I responded
with a cool nonchalance.
Our eyes met, and I knew I
was IN LIKE FLYNN!
With an arrogant smile, I
tore her clothes off and we began making passionate love right in the changing
room. Despite my stature as a beefy bodybuilder, and hers as a ninety one pound
Abercrombie girl, who likely considers a stalk of celery a heavy lunch, it was
some of the best sex I'd ever had. I asked her name, but she was trembling too
hard with passion. Shrugging my shoulders, I walked out and headed for the
store's exit.
To my astonishment, the two
male employees whom I’d seen on the way in were still dancing with one another
in a trance-like state. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the gift card and
tossed it in their direction.
"Hey fellas," I said loudly, so that they could hear me over the
blaring speakers, "That gift card's got $100 on it. Think of all the flip
flops you could buy with it!"
Immediately, both ceased
dancing and made a dive for the gift card. I laughed hysterically as the two
wrestled over it like two pit bulls fighting for a steak.
Vowing never to come back, I
left the store and made a beeline for Orange Julius. All that play had made me
thirsty
 |
| Buh-bye, Mule! |
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