King of the Mall

The Mall before Christmas and all through the land, all the creatures were stirring, especially ME, the King of the Mall.

I've earned the title, I've put in the time, and now you're all screwed, cause I'm the King, and the King does what they want, when they want, and they're more important than you, mere last-minute shopper.

I'll slam my bags straight into your kid's face and not say excuse me. I'll walk on the left side. Did I say walk, I meant 'putter about.' So slow, in fact, it's like I'm in my own highlight reel. And don't bother trying to walk around me, cause I've got 18 bags on both arms and I stink.

I'll shove a cheese dipped pretzel in my face. I'll touch the blouses with my grease hands. You make me sick. Where's Macy's?

I won't hold the door, in fact, I'll stand outside and fake-talk on my cellie so that you have to open the door for me, the King, can't you see the crown? Come on, you sicken me.

I'll grab a trendy DIY book at Urban Outfitters, dog ear a chapter, and throw it at a homeless person/employee. Then I'll mess up a stack of skinny jeans and break a record over my knee. You think I care? Why? You're the one that's gonna have to clean it up, not me. I'm the King, lest ye forget?

And don't say 'Happy Holidays' to me as I go, either. Cause I'll act like I didn't hear it while yell at my wife from too far away.

Then I'll finish my pretzel and find a kid wearing a backpack and stuff the wrapper into it. If the kid looks up I'll tell him there's no Santa and Mommy's in love with Uncle Billy.

Why do I do all this? Cause I'm the King of the Mall. And you're not.

I'll ask for a different size every time. No, not the blue one, the black one. And don't bring me a different style, thinking I'll like it, cause I won't. I don't like anything that you pick for me, cause I'm the King, and you merely work in my kingdom.

I'll pay with a check and it'll bounce. I'll spill my latte on a sweater to get a discount. I'll return it all the next day, anyway, who cares. Not me.

Cause I'm the King of the Mall.

I'll yell in line. I'll make lude comments about strangers to you. I'll have bad breath. I'll take up the whole bench. I'll fart as I walk by. I'll turn around and see if you noticed, and if you did, I'll wink and flick you off. Cause I'm the King.

I'll steal the parking spot you've been waiting on for 20 minutes. I'll use the handicap seat in the movie theater cause I've got a bum wrist. I'll cut in line. I'll take the last one.

Shut up.

I'm the King, baby.

And you won't say a thing will you? No you won't. Cause that would mean you'd stoop to my level.

And nobody wants to do that, do they.

Not to the King of the Mall.